


Cobalt strings & Carmine heelys

by EnemiesWithBenefits



Series: Resonance [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Errortale, Alternate Universe - Inktale, Alternate Universe - Underfresh, Biting, But there are Non-con elements, Choking, F/M, Fighting, Growling, Has Plot, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Magic/drug induced sex, Monster Heat, More AUs to appear, More like dubcon, More tags to be added, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW, Not exactly Rape/Non-con, Now much more than just smut, Possesive/obsessive tendencies, Rape Trauma Syndrome, Self-Harm, Smut, Soul Sex, Stockholm Syndrome, Tentacles, Very much non-con in chapter 2, Violence, cursing, dubcon, gagging, voices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnemiesWithBenefits/pseuds/EnemiesWithBenefits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing was, you had made a deal, hadn’t you?</p><p>You would help him with his… problem – and he would take you somewhere safe, without infecting you with his virus. But you’d been so caught up in remembering exactly who Error was and the fact you were his captive, not his friend, that you hadn’t even bothered to press for what his problem was.</p><p>And now, here you were, absolutely sure that his ‘problem’ was the hot press of whatever it was inside his shorts, stiff against your thighs.</p><p>* now no longer just a three-part smut, this is a story in the making that is in no way something meant to make you squirm with unbridled joy, but with confusion and confliction. this story entails your troubled journey through the multiverse under constant threat of being nothing less than a plaything for those much more powerful than you could ever hope to be - be prepaired for something that isn't meant to only delight, but instead detain and capture your attention in so many delightfully <em>disturbing</em> ways.</p><p>Error & Fresh belong to Loverofpiggies, Ink belongs to Comyet  <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not so Fresh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Fresh offers you a deal - and who are you to refuse?_ ”  
>  8336 words, 20 pages.

Today hadn’t seemed any different than any other.

Er, as best as you could call it _today,_ in comparison to any other day past. Given the fact time didn’t really pass in the Anti-void. But at the same time it did? Sure, things happened in a linear manner, matter moving along the third plane through frames of time and therefor time _did_ exist, but it didn’t quite exist like any other place.

Whatever.

It was today, a _new_ day, as decided by the fact of just having woken up, arching your back as you stood. You honestly had no way of telling how long you’ve been asleep – minutes, hours, days, _years?_ Who the hell knew?

_He did._

And he’d probably never let you sleep for that long anyways, always one eager for companionship – despite how much he liked to remind you how much he _hated_ your existence.

_“Then why the fuck haven’t you_ killed _me yet?”_

 _"la_ _̷_ _n_ _̢_ _g_ _͜_ _ua_ _̛_ _ge_ _̀_ _. bes_ _҉_ _ides,_ _̨_ _̨_ _yo_ _͡_ _u_ _͏_ _'re_ _͝_ _t_ _͡_ _o_ _̵_ _o_ _͢_ _f_ _̶_ _u_ _̨_ _n to_ _͡_ _͜_ _f_ _͠_ _u_ _͡_ _c_ _͞_ _k w_ _҉_ _it_ _͜_ _h,_ _́_ _h_ _͏_ _uman._ _͠_ _"_

_“… what?”_

_"you're_ _͜_ _di_ _҉_ _sgus_ _̧_ _t_ _͡_ _ing_ _͠_ _,_ _̡_ _th_ _͘_ _inkin_ _̧_ _g_ _͢_ _i_ _̀_ _me_ _̀_ _a_ _̷_ _n_ _͠_ _t_ _̢_ _it_ _͘_ _̀_ _l_ _̨_ _i_ _͟_ _k_ _̡_ _e_ _̛_ _that_ _҉_ _."_ _̡_

 

But that conversation was from the beginning, before you had begun to grow attached to him – to your _captor._ But was he really your captor anymore? You _liked_ being here. You enjoyed his company, sans his horrid mood swings and self-tasked job to cleanse the multiverse.

 

 _"O_ _͢_ _ne day_ _͜_ _̴_ _I'll kill_ _̶_ _yo_ _́_ _u."_

_“why not today?”_

_".._ _́_ _._ _͘_ _̵_ _s_ _̴_ _hut_ _͞_ _it._ _͜_ _"_ _̸_

Including you, but apparently _not yet._

Never _yet._

 

 

 

 

Huh.

You couldn’t find Error _anywhere._

Which wasn’t _that_ strange. Often enough he was off somewhere in the multiverse doing his own thing – you’d also learned through trial and error (heh) not too question it so much. That led to punishment, something he was quick to dole out. You don’t think you’d ever be used to the way he disciplined you.

And you were certain you weren’t currently in trouble of any sort – in fact, hadn’t Error last left you saying he was planning something pleasant? A _surprise_? You hoped it was something new to wear – or a shower, even. Not that you were dirty – it was impossible for such a thing in this place, but it would still feel nice to take a nice hot shower for the first time in who knows _how_ long.

Maybe you should try calling for him? He was always quick to come when called by name – something you didn’t quite understand, but had chalked it up to magic or something.

“Error?”

Your voice, slightly meek from disuse, seemed to echo across the infinite stretch all around you, giving you a reminder of just how _empty_ this place was.

Only you and your thoughts.

“hey brah.”

Or so you had thought.

Slightly disconcerted, you turned to face a familiar looking parasite, one who had the odd quality to always pop up when he wasn’t wanted – something you were certain he probably prided on if the casual stretch of his ever-present grin was any hint. He was in the same vessel as the last time you saw him – some classic sans, dressed in what Fresh probably deemed his regular clothes.

Whatever _those_ clothes were, anyways.

“What’re _you_ doing here?” Your narrowed eyes and stern look said ‘fuck off’, but the racing of your heart gave away at your unease. Fresh never did bode well – his visits in Error’s absence always set you off-guard and made you worried he would try and infect you – which he never did, for some strange reason. But you suppose Error’s anger at the parasite’s visit in his absence was probably why he came by anyways. Just to piss off your… captor(?) _._

(it’s getting harder and harder these days to figure out _what_ he is to you.)

“totally uncool, brospeh,” Fresh replied, hands placed loosely in his shorts as he only continued to grin merrily, as if the two of you were the best of pals. As if. “you def need to chill and just relax. ‘sides, it’s just lil’ ol’ me, your best pal – sansy fresh.”

“you’re not my friend.” You immediately snapped back, but you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Something didn’t feel right – something was _wrong._

“oh c’mon, my pal chum buddy friend amigo,” He took a step forward – and for a _split second,_ his sun glasses flashed from ‘YOLO’ to ‘HELP’, grin twitching. The manic magic that sparked from him in response made you retreat a step backwards in turn, wishing for all the world Error would just get here already. “you say that like you _don’t_ want my totally rad help.”

… _what?_

“Help?” You snorted, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend you were unafraid and unfazed by this parasite. At least… at least you were still _strong,_ right?

(why couldn’t you stand up to error like this anymore?)

(why didn’t you _want_ to?)

“that’s right, my super coolio broski. my _help._ ” He paused, and you only continued to give him an untrusting look – you didn’t want _anything_ to do with Fresh. From what Error had told you, he was nothing but a _di_ _̵_ _r_ _͟_ _ty g_ _̴_ _litch_ _̧_ _,_ one that had apparently been plaguing Error for far longer than comfortable.

“With what?” You didn’t _need_ any help. The only help you wanted right now was _Error’s –_ and you wanted him to help get _rid_ of Fresh.

“y’know, for a cool gal who’s being _forced_ into staying here,” He paused, his sudden change to a much more _serious_ topic throwing you off. “you act like you don’t want to leave. like that totally _uncool_ error man is your _friend_ or something.”

 

…

 

What could you say to _that?_

 

“and i can totally get you outta this unfresh place, friendo,” He offered, natural lazy grin now somewhat sly. “you just gotta be willin’ to help me with a lil’ unrad problem of mine.”

“Problem?” Despite your confusion and sudden lack of resolve, you couldn’t help but ask. What kind of problem could a multiversal parasite like Fresh have that _you_ of all people could help with?

“somethin’ totally wiggidy wack,” His grin had grown somewhat significantly – sharp and borderline _dangerous._ And as dangerous as Fresh normally was, the way he was suddenly eyeing you wasn’t something you were used to coming from him. Sure, he’d given you probing looks before – something you chalked up to him thinking about _infecting_ you. But this was… _different._ “something only you can help me with, my humando friendo.”

“Like _what?_ ” You clarified, tired of him dancing around the topic.

But… why were you even _asking?_

It’s not like you were interested in helping him in favor of _leaving,_ right?

Then again… you weren’t here of your own _will,_ were you?

Sensing that you were thinking things over, Fresh stayed silent, leaning back on an invisible wall you sure hadn’t been there to begin with. Then again, the floor of the anti-void was much the same in that regard. He looked completely at ease, as if he hadn’t just thrown you into a minor existential crisis. Then again – smug bastard that he was – he probably meant for it.

The thing was, you _enjoyed_ being here, with Error. Sure, the moments you spent on your lonesome were pretty frequent, but the time you spent with Error was more common and outweighed that, right? But Error _threatened_ you – he would willingly _leave_ you here, for indefinite amounts of time, _hoping_ to drive you mad. And yet you sought out his attention, craved for his praise and _longed_ for him _._ But not like _that –_

 _Not like_ _that._

Not…

Right?

 

 

Error was your _captor._

He’d probably killed everyone you once loved.

 

But… was it so bad that you couldn’t even remember the faces of those he had ripped you from?

 

Had it been so long that you had forgotten this?

Forgotten that this place wasn’t your _home?_

That once upon a time, it had been your personal _hell?_

You remember, with sudden clarity, the first time you met Error.

When he’d _kidnapped_ you.

 

_How long had it been since monsters had fought their way to the surface? About three years, right? The amount of time since then had little significance when it came to how the magical creatures were deferred to in a matter of worth and citizenship throughout the world. But they never seemed to mind – immune to the prejudice and animosity they faced in their day to day lives._

_You only wished you could feel as grateful as they did for the life you were given on the surface of this tiny little planet._

_Well, it wasn’t like you were_ unhappy, _you just wished you could feel as invigorated about life as these monsters seemed to be. They were always such beautiful beings, said to have been made purely from love, hope, and compassion. It surely showed through what little interaction you had with any of them._

_It wasn’t that you were completely unsatisfied – you worked your dream job, had a plethora of budding hobbies, and a family you knew would always be there for you. Sure, your friends only came in the form of online acquaintances and coworkers, but you didn’t mind. You had plenty to fill your time with – plenty to hide from your loneliness with._

_On this particular day, you had the day off – and as usual, you spent it by taking a walk through Ebott city, letting your feet guide you. Some days you’d take a familiar path – other days, you would find yourself somewhere new. One time you’d even found yourself lost, past dark, and had to get an Uber home. Thankfully, you’d gotten home just fine. A little groggy and sore in the morning, but not at all worse for the wear._

_Today, you’d wandered onto the trail of Mount Ebott. From what you knew, the trail went right up the mountain’s peak and even branched off towards the two entrances of the Underground – one of which was cordoned, the other turned into the entrance of a now frequented tourist spot. One you’d never bothered to visit, set off by all the fanfare._

_The path seemed a little worn, but unused as of late. Which you understood – why walk up a literal mountain, when you could take the newly paved roads towards your destination? For you, right now it was all about enjoying the scenery. The forest around you was lively with the clear air of mid-spring, the tree line embellished by the golden sway of blossoming buttercups, leaving the air fragrant._

_You’d been down this path before – but not since before monsters had been freed of their imprisonment._

_But that had been a long time ago. You hadn’t been the same person back then._

_It wasn’t long until you ran into someone else._

_It was strange – the air had almost suddenly become thick, suffocating with a tension you recalled as the use of pent up magic. You had followed the feeling, the strange crackling in the air – something was hissing broken static, and despite your fear, you couldn’t help but be morbidly curious. It was a monster – it had to be. And from what you knew, you had nothing to fear from monsters. Maybe they were in trouble?_

_You didn’t know what you’d been expecting when you found the monster responsible for the bitter tang in your mouth, their suppressed magic running like static across your skin. Whoever it was had their back to you, standing between a small grove of trees, the buttercups seeming to spring to full attention at their slipper-clad feet. They were dressed in all black, sporting crimson bones where you could see them._

_But that wasn’t what had you so terrified, however._

_They had a single hand raised, flicking through the air from side to side, as if swiping across a screen. In a sense they were, a literal rip_ _in the fabric of reality lying before them and somehow at their control. It was as big as their torso, the edges shuttering static, as if almost glitched into existence. As they swiped, a different image would appear, one after the next, as simple as changing channels._

_Some of the images were of Ebott City, with the blossoming jewel it was burning to the ground or of it lifted into the sky on a suspended island. Some of the images were of a familiar child – sometimes with a knife or stick in hand, as they coated themselves in dust or magic. Some images were of an even more familiar looking skeleton monster, sometimes in black, sometimes tall, sometimes a child – but most commonly in a blue jacket._

_You don’t know how long you watched, a distorted humming seeming to raise above the thick static, a tuneless melody that the unknown monster droned out mindlessly._

_Eventually, however, the image shifted again – but this time, it was of you._

_You, crouched behind the foliage, the setting sun striking your confused and curious features with haunted exaggerations. You watched, as your face turned towards confusion, then shock, then horror – and finally, realization as you looked back towards the monster._

_He was looking directly at you, and with another swipe of his hand, the tear disappeared, static cutting out._

_"_ _͟_ _l_ _̴_ _ik_ _̶_ _e_ _͜_ _wha_ _͡_ _t yo_ _̛_ _u_ _͢_ _see?_ _̛_ _" His voice was akin to his appearance, glitched, frayed, **wrong.** For all intents and purposes, he frightened you, but you stayed where you were, taking a moment to actually look at him. He was dressed in a black faux fur-lined hoodie, black shorts accented with a blue stripe down the sides. Beneath his jacket he wore a red turtleneck, only further adding his overall look._

_You almost thought him a skeleton monster – he certainly looked like one, but his skull was black, visible tibia and fibula red, distal and middle phalanges yellow, proximal phalanges red, with his black metacarpals looking almost fused together into a palm. His expression was what unnerved you most – a lethal looking grin was carved across his skull, eyes completely uneven as streaks of blue presented him as crying. Maybe he was – but maybe he wasn’t._

_"yo_ _̕_ _u su_ _́_ _r_ _̶_ _e_ _̛_ _̶_ _a_ _͞_ _re a_ _͘_ _d_ _̷_ _u_ _͘_ _ll_ _͟_ _o_ _̀_ _ne,_ _͏_ _̕_ _a_ _̀_ _r_ _̷_ _e_ _̢_ _n't_ _̧_ _yo_ _̶_ _u?" He let out a chuckle that sounded like a skipping record, and you couldn’t help the heat that found its way to your face. Despite the unknown you faced in this situation, there was nothing that gave away that he meant harm. There was a sense of malice, yes, but what did you know?_

_Remember? Monsters were made from love, hope, and –_

**_P a i n ._ **

_He was holding out the same hand again, the static and thick humidity of his magic returning to suffocate you once more. Before you, your soul, vibrant and glowing out defiantly as blue strings threaded across its surface. You could feel each fiber of the strings as if they were touching against raw flesh, pulling you up and towards him, your body immobile and hanging limp like a puppet. The weight of your body hanging in the air only cut the pain of the strings in your soul ever tighter._

_Your initial cry of pain was cut off by your clenched teeth as you glared him down, pained gasps for breath slow going. He seemed unfazed, watching you with a careless eye, but the rising edge of his smile betrayed him, giving a hint of his enjoyment at your torture._

_"_ _̢_ _l_ _̡_ _ook_ _̷_ _̸_ _at you._ _̵_ _we_ _͜_ _ak_ _̶_ _,_ _́_ _p_ _̕_ _ath_ _̀_ _eti_ _̢_ _c._ _̛_ _a_ _͘_ _d_ _̢_ _i_ _́_ _r_ _҉_ _t_ _̡_ _y glit_ _̛_ _c_ _҉_ _h_ _̨_ _in_ _͞_ _ne_ _̀_ _e_ _͞_ _d_ _͝_ _o_ _́_ _f bein_ _̨_ _g_ _̀_ _er_ _̛_ _a_ _̧_ _s_ _́_ _e_ _͘_ _d_ _̛_ _."_ _͠_ _He sighed, and you suddenly found the strength to struggle – the **determination** – ignoring the way his grasp on your soul cut into your very being._

_“Let – me – go!” You were almost proud of how brave you sounded – he seemed surprised by it too, a strange look passing his features. He almost seemed frustrated, besides having total control over the situation. You could feel the absolute firmness of his grasp, the unsaid threat that if you kept this way your soul would shatter. An instinct, almost._

_"maybe_ _҉_ _you a_ _̶_ _ren_ _͏_ _'t_ _̡_ _as_ _̡_ _͞_ _p_ _҉_ _ath_ _̢_ _e_ _͏_ _t_ _͠_ _ic a_ _͝_ _s i_ _͜_ _th_ _̶_ _ought_ _̡_ _yo_ _̡_ _u_ _̷_ _wer_ _̶_ _e._ _̢_ _" The look of morbid curiosity he gave you now was one you knew too well – hadn’t you just been watching him from the safety of the foliage with the same look mere moments ago?_ _"g_ _̀_ _o_ _̨_ _t_ _҉_ _an_ _̶_ _y_ _́_ _good_ _̢_ _reaso_ _̕_ _n_ _́_ _s_ _̧_ _̷_ _w_ _̴_ _h_ _̛_ _y_ _̶_ _i sh_ _̧_ _o_ _̴_ _u_ _̧_ _l_ _͟_ _d_ _̛_ _n'_ _̧_ _t_ _̕_ _j_ _͠_ _u_ _͘_ _st_ _͜_ _kil_ _̷_ _l you_ _̵_ _͏_ _no_ _͜_ _w_ _̶_ _?"_

_You had always thought that was a stupid question. Then again, you’d never been on the receiving end of such a morbid request, only a pursuer of good books and movies that **didn’t** have a penchant for overused lines like that one._

_The tight grasp on your soul weakened momentarily, enough to let you spit out an answer._

_“I don’t know – you tell me?” You hated your sass right now, but you couldn’t help it – adrenaline was running through you stronger than any caffeine, burning through your heart and soul. It felt disgusting, timid, but empowering. You held onto that feeling, tighter than anything else. “You haven’t done it yet, but maybe that’s because you’ve been talking too much.”_

_Maybe provoking him wasn’t the_ best _idea._

 _There was a deep, heavy growl that resonated in his bones and mirrored the re-tightening of thin, sturdy lace on your soul. He looked murderous, but laughed through that expression anyways, giving you the distinct impression of just how **unhinged** he was_.

 _"heh_ _͜_ _._ _̀_ _͢_ _let's_ _҉_ _͜_ _se_ _͢_ _e_ _͜_ _how_ _̸_ _̢_ _t_ _̴_ _h_ _̴_ _a_ _͘_ _t_ _͜_ _s_ _̸_ _ma_ _͠_ _r_ _̷_ _t_ _̡_ _a_ _͘_ _s_ _́_ _s_ _҉_ _͜_ _m_ _͠_ _out_ _͘_ _h_ _̶_ _of yours_ _̡_ _tr_ _͡_ _e_ _̧_ _a_ _͢_ _t_ _͢_ _s_ _҉_ _͘_ _yo_ _̴_ _u in_ _́_ _the_ _̀_ _̷_ _ant_ _̸_ _i-voi_ _͝_ _d_ _͡_ _,_ _̴_ _hu_ _̴_ _h? bet_ _̕_ _you_ _͡_ _̸_ _wo_ _͠_ _n't_ _̕_ _ev_ _͞_ _en_ _̢_ _last_ _͏_ _l_ _͝_ _o_ _̕_ _n_ _̛_ _g_ _̕_ _enou_ _҉_ _g_ _̵_ _h f_ _͟_ _or_ _͏_ _̵_ _me_ _͠_ _t_ _̕_ _o_ _̸_ _fin_ _̢_ _i_ _̴_ _sh_ _̢_ _t_ _͘_ _e_ _͘_ _a_ _̕_ _r_ _̛_ _in_ _̡_ _g y_ _̕_ _o_ _́_ _ur u_ _҉_ _ni_ _͏_ _verse_ _̀_ _ap_ _͟_ _ar_ _͢_ _t_ _͘_ _._ _͟_ _"_ _͝_

_Before you could even question what he had said, he was opening that tear – the rift in the fabric of reality – and was using his magic to chuck you straight through it._

But… that had been _so_ long ago – hadn’t it?

Now, you and Error were…

You were…

You were _what?_

He still threatened you, still treated you like _shit –_

He didn’t care about you. He killed all of your family, as far as you knew. And you had grown to _accept_ that. Why had it taken _Fresh_ telling you otherwise in order to finally see it?

You were _sick._

What if Error had done nothing but lie this entire time?

What if Fresh really _could_ help you?

But…

What if _Fresh_ was lying? Using you as a means to an end?

What if they _both_ were?

 _That_ seemed much more likely – that you were nothing but trapped between the both of them, something to play with and break. But then, what was the point, if you had nothing left for you?

Maybe – maybe helping Fresh would give you a reason. _Some_ reason that you weren’t just a toy for these two. That and it would piss the fuck out of Error to know you’d finally wised up and left – all with the help of the parasite he _hated_ oh-so-much.

“You promise to take me somewhere _safe_ if I help you?” Albeit, you were unsure what he might need your help with, but it couldn’t be something _that_ bad, right? Besides, for all you’d been told bad about Fresh, you’d never actually _seen_ him do something worth being worried about – par infecting people. He was staring at you from above his sunglasses, eye-lights blazing a strange purple you’d come to associate as the parasite itself. “And you _also_ have to promise not to infect me or whatever, deal?”

The skeleton stood up off of the invisible wall, pushing his shades up with more dramatic flourish than necessary. His grin still resembled something lethal – something that made your skin crawl, shades flashing too quickly for you to catch whatever might’ve been on their surface. He didn’t even speak – instead, just disappeared.

What –

Where –

 

_Had he left you?_

 

Confused, you frowned – but suddenly, without any kind of warning, he was right in front of you, too quick to register. He was grasping one of your arms with his own, a tight grip that could bruise if he held on any tighter. An undignified squeak left you – you were used to Error trying to jumpscare you in such a way, but this was different.

Fresh was close – _too close –_ a thin veil of purple dusting his cheekbones. You could _feel_ the heat of his breath, stunning you into silence, the idea that a skeleton monster – no, a _parasite –_ had to breathe, making you wonder if Error did too.

Fresh’s smile was muted, soft, his eye-lights looking at you from above shades that read his exact next words.

“ _deal._ ”

 

 

 

 

The world around you was shifting, tilting on its axis as you were ripped apart and brought together again in the coalescence of Fresh’s magic. He must’ve teleported the two of you – that would explain the familiar feeling of your stomach trying to empty itself.

From what you could tell through your confusion, Fresh still had a hard grip on your arm, and before you could even think about looking around wherever it is the two of you are, you’re being shoved against a wall. Confined between the firm surface of a wall and Fresh’s body, the parasite wasn’t giving you any room to struggle. You let out a surprised cry, confused, head still spinning and knees buckling from the sudden and unexpected teleport.

You could feel him taking the arm in his grasp and pinning it to your side, your own eyes closed as you struggle to catch your breath beyond the harsh beating of your heart. Fear and adrenaline raced through you – once again making you feel even sicker as the parasite holding you down _growled,_ much akin to the way Error would when angry.

“F-fresh – what are you –”

You couldn’t even speak before something – something fizzling like carbonation on your skin – pressed your mouth shut, leaving you unable to speak. You opened your eyes wide at the sudden use of magic, finding your _new_ captor holding you still, one hand pinning one of your arms while the other fists the material of your shirt near your waist. His head was lowered unto the juncture of your neck, hot heavy panting making you shiver.

You were _terrified._

Fresh had promised – he had _promised_ he wasn’t going to infect you.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it?

He’d _lied._

Why couldn’t you of just stayed _happy,_ being with Error?

And now, he was –

He was going to –

You fought back the harsh sting of tears as you tried to push him away with your free hand, pressing hard against his chest to try and get him as far away as possible. It was no use – the parasite only growled again, deep and predatory, showing you just how fruitless this was.

Then, unbidden – a sensation like cool, wet glass, sliding across your neck, over your pulse point. There was another low growl, but this time – almost in _approval._ You gasped, almost certain he was about to dig his teeth into your neck and tear you open.

“i told ya, my super cool amigo –” Fresh’s voice sounded deeper than any other time you had heard it, burdened and yet firm. You were starting to have a horrible realization – a thought that made you wish you _could_ speak, just to beg he would infect to instead of what you thought he was planning. “you’re gonna help me with a lil _problem_ of mine.”

He raised his skull, the look on his features pinning you in place, stopping you from any kind of struggle you might’ve given prior.

The light purple that had dusted his cheekbones had now rooted into a deep-seated blush, the rich violet taking in most of his skull. His teeth were parted, a similar colored phantasmal tongue hanging lewdly, giving you a good idea what that feeling on your neck had been. You could see both his eye-sockets from this perspective, the right a dark chasm rimmed magenta, the left much the same, only in the center was a white upside down heart, seemingly constricted by phantom strings – much like your own soul when Error had seen fit to attach his strings to you.

You didn’t know _what_ to say.

“somethin’ wrong, pal?” Fresh asked, without even closing his mouth. The voice seemed to just echo from deep within him, his shades reading as ‘SO HOT’. What could you do? What could you _say?_ You could only hope that he was just messing with you – then again, Fresh would never go this far in the terms of some kind of prank.

You could only hope this was an exception.

“we made a deal, didn’t we?” The deep severity of his tone only struck you further into silence, the lack of his usual flare and… _freshness_ setting you off-guard. This wasn’t like him – something _must_ be wrong. Fresh _never_ touched other beings. As far as you had assumed, he had Haphephobia much like Error – he refused to touch anyone. Then again, ‘anyone’ only included you and Error – at least, with as little as you saw Fresh. _And_ more often than not Fresh was trying his best _not_ to get hit by the multidimensional glitch, lest he be blasted to bits.

The fizzling magic against your mouth dissipated, and you quickly licked your lips, noting that the tinging residue of his magic reminded you of the taste of chalk – or maybe even bitter soap. He was giving you an expectant look, waiting for you to answer his question.

The thing was, you _had_ made a deal, hadn’t you?

You would help him with his… _problem –_ and he would take you somewhere safe, _without_ infecting you with his virus. But you’d been so caught up in remembering exactly who Error was and the fact you were his _captive,_ not his friend, that you hadn’t even bothered to press for what his problem was.

And now, here you were, absolutely sure that his ‘problem’ was the hot press of whatever it was inside his shorts, stiff against your thighs.

“ _friendo_ – i just asked you a question, didn’t i?” Fresh cut into your thoughts, the closeness of his hard grin and suddenly sharp-looking teeth making you dizzy. “after all, my chum buddy pal –” His voice dragged out into a low growl and without warning, suddenly, he grinded his pelvis against your own, his erection pressing against you in a place and fashion you would deny until your very last breath made you want _more_. “it’s totally uncool of you to ignore a pal in need like that – like _this._ ”

He did it again, and this time, you couldn’t hold back a suppressed whimper –

**In surprise.**

Not in…

No –

You. Were. Not. _Enjoying_. This.

But…

Fresh _knew_.

He knew you were lying to yourself, and the shame you felt was unbearable, as he ducked his head back down to the junction of your neck. You couldn’t help but gasp as he began to grind against you in earnest, the hand that you had once used to try and push him away grasping tightly onto the front of his jacket. He held fast to your right arm against the wall, his own free hand dipping beneath your shirt to dig into the soft skin of your waist with a strength you were certain would bruise.

“ _Fuck you,”_ You spat out, only confused for a few moments that he hadn’t censored you as compared to the past – instead, you quickly felt the sharp digging of his teeth pressing into the flesh of your shoulder. A pained cry was ripped from you, but with a determined press of him grinding into you rougher than before, it turned into a low, drawn out sound that –

was _**not**_ a moan.

There was distorted laughter coming from the parasite despite the current placement of his tongue and teeth, the mere sound causing you to shake against him. But – but you didn’t _want_ this! You never agreed to this! But you couldn’t _help_ but hold onto him where you could, tilting your head to give him better access.

“W-why…?”

“i _told_ ya, my bud,” He added, sounding _almost_ exasperated, annoyed even. “i’ve got a _problem –_ and _you’re_ gonna help. me. **fix.** it **.** ”

He – he had to be messing with you – or, _or_ there was something _wrong_ with him. There had to be. Fresh – Error – beings like them didn’t _do_ this. They didn’t touch people _like this_ – didn’t do it _against their will._ But was it really against your will? You’d agreed to help him – and you… you couldn’t deny it any longer. The way he was lathering attention to the fragile skin of your neck, holding you down against the wall, bucking against you without mercy –

You _liked_ it.

“I – it’s my _host._ ” He finally grounded out, the hand on your side trailing upwards, dangerously slow with hard presses against the soft flesh of your abdomen. He wouldn’t stop _growling –_ a primal, hungry sound that once again reminded you of your previous fear of him tearing into your throat and bleeding you dry. His voice, despite its depravity and lust had a broken quality to it that tore at your attention beyond the building haze from his assault of ministrations on your body.

“it – it’s in _heat,_ ” He finished, this time biting your exposed shoulder, your shirt having fallen enough to expose enough smooth skin for him to do so. The slice of his sharp teeth in your flesh made you groan pleasantly this time, arching harshly against him. He let out his own cry in response – the two of you lost in the feeling of each other’s bodies pressed against one another.

You didn’t quite understand what he meant. Or, even if you did, which you were _certain_ it sounded familiar from your days back in your own timeline – the fog of lust starting to cloud your judgement was too thick, something deep within you responding and igniting at the heated flare of his magic crackling along your skin.

Had it been any other situation, maybe you would’ve fought longer.

But you were so _tired._

_Lonely._

You’d been so lonely even from _before_ meeting Error – any chance at intimacy, paired with the effect of Fresh’s dizzying, fizzling magic, you couldn’t fight. You _wanted_ this.

You wanted –

You wanted _him._

“I – _Fresh -_ ” You didn’t even get to finish as he soothed over the new addition to the bites on your skin with a cool phantasmal tongue, then tilting his head up far enough to give you a look filled with such _longing –_ “ _Fuck –_ Fresh, _please!_ ”

“what’s wrong, my radtascular friend?” He asked, and if you could compare someone as wrecked looking as him in this moment to having doe eyes and blinking innocently, you would. But with his part jaw, dribbling saliva, lolling tongue – well, the look did _nothing_ but make you begin to soak well through your underwear.

“I – I _need –_ ” It was exactly _then_ that his free hand had roamed high enough under your shirt to press over a perk nipple through your bra, causing you to twitch in response, hissing out through clenched teeth. His open-mouthed grin turned devilish, and you gripped his jacket even tighter in frustration, your pinned hand balling into a fist. “I _swear_ to _fu –_ ”

This time he _twisted,_ the perk bud straining tight and the action causing you to cry out against him, bucking into his hips. The friction caused both of you to call out – you with a high-pitched, breathy keen and him with a low, spine-shivering growl.

“no need for such uncool lingo, ya get me?” But for all intents and purposes he sounded _strained,_ and once again you were vaguely reminded that this _wasn’t_ him. It wasn’t a real person. It was a prisoner – a Sans, _trapped_ in his body, being drained and put to work by a _virus._

Then, he twisted your other nipple, pulling tight and causing the hard peak to press out through your clothes towards his touch.

Any ill thought was once again forgotten, and you were quickly reminded of the quickly growing sense of _need_ between your legs by a hot flash through your core. Frankly, it was growing considerably uncomfortable, your protests and desire for his touch – _any touch –_ expressed through soft, breathy moans. He was still bucking against you, grinding down hard, and you _needed him._

“weren’t you sayin’ somethin’, my broski?”

Your eyes fluttered open – _when had you closed them? –_ an amused chuckle rolling from deep within his ribs, moving through you with a well-placed shudder that jerked your hips _just right –_ something of his had finally pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your legs, the sheer friction enough to make you convulse – but still, _Not. Enough._

“P-please, Fresh – _please_ …” You let your head fall limp against his shoulder, ignoring the way your body was beginning to cramp from being held against the wall so long. Then, you did something risky – hoping it would be enough to get him to _actually_ touch you, rather than the gentle scrape of bone beneath your shirt over your bra, and the harsh grinding of your clothed sexes.

“ _please, please, please…_ ” You kept begging, your lowered head close enough to his neck that you started to lather his neck with your tongue. For a few moments he stopped, freezing altogether, before gasping into a broken moan. You kept going, lapping, teething, scraping teeth on bone as you felt for every divot and mark on the smooth enamel.

The hand under your shirt seemed to finally get the message – _finally –_ and started to travel down, lower, the hand holding your wrist tight and long enough that you _knew_ you’d have bruises by the end of this. Finally taking some initiative, your hand that was clasping to the front of his jacket was making a bee-line for the hem of the 90’s dated clothing. Just as his hand _finally_ slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, your own explorative touch started to slip its way beneath his jacket.

He froze once more at the sudden touch of gentle fingers against his lowest rib, a sound much _deeper –_ much more _carnal_ torn from him. You could _feel_ the shudder of his bones, the resonance of the deep sound shivering across the thick, ivory enamel.

 

“ ** _n o ._** ”

 

And then, just as unbidden and quickly as the time before, your stomach was turning on itself, body pressed down heavily on the something _soft,_ much more giving and comfortable than the wall as you laid on your back. There was a heavy yet comforting weight of something on top of you, most likely Fresh. He must’ve teleported the two of you to a bed – _wherever_ this was.

You were too busy to care where anyways.

Despite your clenched teeth and spinning head, Fresh paid no mind and with a harsh tug and a satisfying **_rip_** off came your shirt, torn and lying now at your sides. You snapped your eyes open – frustrated, meaning to curse the parasite out. The sight that met you, however, made you pause as the air in your body left you to nearly choke on a heated gasp.

Fresh was on his knees between your legs, jacket unzipped and hanging loosely from his form showing off pale ivory bones that glistened in the dim lighting, beckoning your touch. He was hunched over you, the very bones that seemed to almost call out for your touch shuddering and rattling against one another, wisps and sparks of plum colored magic racing across his form. Wherever the magic could make contact with your skin, it felt like a pleasant fizzle – something akin to a bath bomb, melting against your skin.

His jaw was still hanging open, unhinged, his sunglasses lost somewhere only to leave the ever-present reminder of his host’s soul set like a beacon in his left eye, a mockery of a skeleton monster’s usual eye-lights. His hands were now holding tight to the front of your bra – you knew what he was going to do, but before you could even ease your spinning head enough to even _comprehend_ telling him not to, your bra was ripped down the front.

You didn’t even have the chance to get comfortable and try and get the ripped clothes _off_ before he snapped. He descended, one hand going to massage one breast and his mouth latching on the other.

“Oh – oh _fuck_!” You – you didn’t know _what_ to do with your hands. You went to raise them, maybe even grab onto him or push his jacket fully off of him, but he didn’t _like_ that. With a gruff noise, his left eye-socket’s flare of magic sparked even brighter, and _something_ pulled both your hands back, the feeling against your skin much akin to the same magic coming off of him in waves – the same magic he’d used to gag you before.

At least he hadn’t censored you this time.

His free hand was helping him stay propped up, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t grinding against you as he continued to ravage your chest. You couldn’t help but arch against him, at a complete lost. There was so many feelings – from the hard press of your hands held far above you, to the almost teasing, gentle rock he set between the two of your bodies.

Stars, you just wanted him to fucking _touch_ you already!

As if sensing this, Fresh worked just to spite you. He _stopped_ his rutting against you, instead focusing purely on the supple flesh of your chest. You tried bucking against him – to get him to return to giving you _some_ kind of relief. It was impossible to even rub your legs together with the way he was seated between them.

“Fresh! Just fucking _touch_ me al –”

Then, the familiar press of bubbling magic against your mouth.

Did he fucking _gag_ you – **_again?_**

“didn’t i _tell_ you already…?” He grounded out, lifting his head from your chest, eyes dark voids, even blank from the plum colored magic that inhabited them mere moments ago. You could feel him still completely on top of you. _Your_ body was shivering, heart pumping slugged ice through your veins at such a look. You’d only ever been on the receiving end of such a lethal glare from Error – and despite the fucked up relationship between you and the glitch, that had only been _once._

“shut. your. fucking. _mouth._ ”

He reached the hand from your chest to your throat, pressing down harshly. Suddenly, it got hard to breathe – hard to _think._

This… you _knew_ this wasn’t Fresh. This was nothing like him.

But… you didn’t really know the parasite all that well, did you?

You only ever saw what he _showed_ you. You and Error.

Fuck.

“you want me to _touch_ you – with that kind of lingo?” He asked lifting himself up on your body so he was closer, his groin now pressing directly upon your own. His face was _so close –_ the iridescent purple flame of his magic crackling into a firestorm that raged across his skull from his left eye-socket. “totally unrad, my _pal._ ”

Then, softer, _lower_ –

“you want me to _fuck_ you, my chum buddy _amigo_?” Each word – each continuation of his rant – and the pressure increased on your throat. You could still breathe, yeah, but the _fear –_ the stimulation of it all – it was almost too much. You were – you were – _fuck –_

“ _huh?_ ” He asked, the simple pressing of his palm turning into an iron grip that had his phalanges digging into your skin, irritating the marks he had made not too long ago with teeth and tongue. “you not gonna answer me an’ leave a bro _hangin’?_ ”

God – you _hated_ him _._

But fuck if you didn’t want him.

He laughed, once again a low hollow thing that sounded bitter and wrathful against your ears. He leaned down even further, and you could _feel_ the gentle press of his Cheshire grin against your ear.

“you _close_ , **h u m a n ?** ”

You don’t know _what –_ but _something –_ something solid, something _real_ but somehow impossible was _touching_ you. Through your pants and underwear, relentless and feeling akin to the cool wet glass of his tongue and yet fizzling like this magic. _Whatever_ it was was toying with your clit, every touch sending your legs into a shaking fit. It was _almost_ enough – _almost –_

And then, once again, he brought down his sharp canines onto an untouched shoulder.

You came undone, arching, begging, _grasping –_

His teeth, his choke hold, your pinned body, the non-stopping touch on your clit –

You cried out, sharp – high – _loud._

He groaned out, deep and needy, _with you –_ and you wondered if he’d cum too.

You were panting, and somehow in the midst of your orgasm he had let up his hand from your throat. You could _feel_ the imprint of his fingers still on your skin, certain that after this was all said and done, you’d be marked all over. Where he’d just bitten you felt raw – a pain sharper than anywhere he’d deemed necessary to mark you before. You were pretty certain he’d drawn blood.

Your eyes fluttered open, eyesight hazy from the sheer force of such a strenuous orgasm. Fresh was sitting back on his knees, watching you with wide eyes. You couldn’t read the expression on his face – awe? Confusion? Frustration? Sadness?

_Regret?_

But… Fresh didn’t feel those emotions – he’d told you as such himself, at one point.

It wasn’t long until the uncertainty turned back into savage _need,_ his hands placing themselves on your midriff before trailing _down –_

He stopped at the top of your pants, digging his finger into the waistband and tugging slightly, _teasingly_. His grin was bigger than a crescent moon, suddenly unhooking his fingers to work on shrugging off the rest of his jacket, letting it fall to somewhere that _wasn’t_ here. Not that you cared – your eyes were caught on the rise of his pelvic crests from his colorful shorts, the material tented with a slight glow.

Despite the earth-shattered orgasm you’d had moments prior, you were still _aching –_ you wanted him.

 _Fuck_ you wanted him **_bad_** _._

You wanted to tell him – to _beg,_ like the look he was giving you demanded.

Damn fucking _gag._

He didn’t say anything, hands moving seamlessly to his shorts, sliding down his ribcage as if he were putting on a _fucking show –_ wasn’t he in _heat?_ How the _fuck_ did he have this much self-control?

His hands found the edge of his shorts, grasping the fabric and sliding it off and away – it just didn’t do _justice –_ you wanted to tear them off, the same way he’d done to your shirt and bra.

Then again, you were too focused on what he’d revealed to you.

Translucent, appearing how you guessed his tongue looked, was a phantasmal wine colored cock, standing proudly at attention between the hard bones of his femurs. It looked big, yes, but most importantly, it looked _perfect –_ you could feel your walls tightening, a pleasurable twinge running down your spine merely at the sight.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck, fuck, **fuck** –_

He didn’t even _say_ anything – just watched your face, his smug grin telling you more than words ever could. But there was something _empty –_ something stiff about his motions as he reached for your own pants, undoing the buckle without any kind of flourish, tugging them and your underwear off in one clean motion.

Something was _off –_ but…

Gone were your pants and underwear, off to wherever he’d been tossing his own clothes. You were once again reminded of the small chafe of your torn shirt and bra still underneath you. You didn’t think he was going to be willing enough to take those off at this point – not like you blamed him.

His gaze was stuck on your sex, mouth once again open and tongue lolling as he put one warm yet firm hand on an inner thigh to help spread your legs wider, the other going to touch tentatively at your folds. Fuck – why was he being so _gentle?_

A single phalange slid up your slit before nearing your clit – before he even touched you however, he stroked back downwards, this time parting your lower lips. _Shit_ you were wet – you needed him, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to take his sudden slow-going pace for much longer.

Suddenly, without warning, he pushed in two fingers – hilting at his knuckles, the insertion smooth from your previous orgasm. You could feel every bump and ridge of his boney phalanges, your breathing suddenly coming in short gasps as sparks of magic raced from his eye down his bones and finally from his arm to inside of you.

The sudden addition of magic, plus the unwarranted addition of another finger – and suddenly he was fingering you, slow but _hard._ You let out a long wail – it was _too much._ You thought you were ready, but fuck – the euphoria of his magic massaging your inner walls paired with the scissoring of his fingers was at the same time nowhere _near_ enough.

You knew he was just getting you ready for something _better –_

But you also knew he was probably being a fucking asshole.

He kept going – even with your muffled cries against the gag, his eyes were only for your own, as if he were studying, burning to memory every shift and fraction of change in your expression. The severity of his look paired with his continual touch – _stars,_ he was _finger fucking_ you – it was _so_ _good._

Just as you had begun to get lost in the winding press of another oncoming orgasm, he pulled away, and you looked up with a throaty mewl. You realized the magical gag was gone in the very same instant he brought the three fingers from your cunt before his mouth. He took in a strong inhale – _as if he could fucking smell you –_ before a plethora of tongues emerged from his mouth, cleaning his fingers.

You thought…

Hadn’t he…

_Fuck._

You didn’t care that you were positive he’d only had one tongue before.

Didn’t matter.

What _did_ matter, was the fact he was shifting, covering your body with his own, and upon _finally_ feeling his cock actually pressing against skin, you almost lost it. His bones were _warm,_ sturdy, the magic racing throughout his body with a light hum setting your skin on _fire_.

“F-fuck… _Fresh –_ ”

“that’s _right,_ ” He answered, skeletal hands gripping you harshly – digging into your flesh for support. You could feel him sliding against you – drawing moisture from your slick folds onto his cock, getting ready to take you. He was breathing heavily, the magenta blush that had once claimed his cheekbones now covering nearly every inch of his body.

It wasn’t long until you felt him pressed against your entrance, your breath catching.

“i want to _hear_ you.”

He hilted inside of you with a single thrust, large girth stretching you out pleasurably, a long drawn out sigh passing through pursed lips. There was a moments pause as the two of you laid together, his forehead against your own, his eyes closed as you looked up at him. He looked – he looked at _peace –_ an expression you’d never seen on his face before.

Beyond that, you couldn’t think over the haze of how _good_ he felt –

How _right._

Without prompt he began to move, shallowly, slowly, drawing out shuddering gasps from the both of you. Your hands flexed in their confines, your body arching against every movement of his own. Fuck – you wanted, you _needed –_

“Let me – let me _touch_ you, _please._ ”

His eyes snapped open, and for a few moments he stilled to a few sloppy, fast yet shallow thrusts, sockets narrowed. A strangled growl tore from his throat, the white of his host’s soul flickering for a few moments. And like that – your hands were free.

Good thing.

It was then that he _lost it._

There were a few hard, fast thrusts that made you dizzy, the sudden impale of his cock making you see stars. He didn’t even give you a moment to recover before he set a brutal pace, your hands coming down to grasp where they could. His bones shuddered and rattled at your touch, once again the close proximity to his magic making you feel like there was pins and needles all throughout your body.

He wouldn’t _stop –_ he was growling, _feral_ as he claimed you, louder than any cry you could have made for him to slow down. He didn’t care – he wasn’t even _sane_ anymore.

No longer a parasite – but a _monster._

You were delirious with ecstasy, the drag of his thick member in your cunt, the slam of his pelvis against your own, the stiff grip on your bruised flesh – he seemed to love it just as much, growls not enough to hide his drawn out moans and cries when you tightened around him –

It was all too much.

(but it wasn’t _enough._ )

You came first, the harsh and sudden tightening of your inner walls making you cry out, but what words exactly, escaped you in the moment.

He followed quickly, spurred on by your own orgasm, weeping hot seed inside of you, burning and yet comforting.

 

 

 

 

You don’t quite remember much of what happened after that.

Him shuffling, getting dressed.

His form standing above you on what you finally recognized as a cream colored bed, lifting you into his arms.

“Where – where are we going?”

Your lips had been so _chapped –_ your mouth dry, body aching both painfully and pleasurably.

“somewhere safe.”

It was all he said.

Wasn’t that what you had asked for, after all?

You smiled deliriously against his chest, somewhat happy he was holding up his end of the bargain.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was a familiar blinding anti-void, with Fresh placing your limp body on the ground.

“Where… I thought…?” Fuck. You were too tired to do much other than glance at him weakly, _naked –_ he paused, before you felt a familiar neon jacket being thrown over you.

“somewhere _safe._ ”

Then he left you, back where you’d started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know, this is my 10th time writing sin? Happy double digits, me!  
> Tell me if I’m missing any important tags.  
> Me and some friends were thirsty for Fresh sin, and I “accidentally” went a bit too far with it and now It’s an entire thing with a half-baked plot and a shit ton of sin.  
> I seriously have no fucking clue how I wrote 8k+ words in the span of a few hours. Like what the fuck.  
> Also, entire paragraphs or conversations that are italicized are some form of a flashback. If I didn’t make this very clear, tell me, and I’ll fix it.
> 
> Edit: I mispelled heelys. What a scrub.
> 
> Edit on Aug. 30th, 2016;; Wow! So much support for such sin! Well, you guys asked for it and so here it comes - Chapter Two, with some Error sin! I've been having such trouble with writing Error, but I think I can get it down. As for this story, I plan on turning it into more than just three chapters - I'm going to have one chapter for each AU I can think of that's just pure sin. How I'll figure it out, well, we'll see.
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your support! The amount of you guys that like this has really floored me! Like, wow! One chapter and 200+ Kudos, 80+ Comments, 2.5k+ hits... well, you can probably see all these statistics from above. So, from the bottom of my sinful heart - thank you!


	2. E͞R̶͢R̨̛͡OŔ̴

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _“di͜d ̕yơu̴ e͘n͝j̨oy͠ ̶it ̧when̢ h͡e to̕ųçh̛e̢d́ y͏ou͝? i ̡bet y҉o̸ư ̛even li̢k͝èd̡ ̡it wh̴en͠ th͘a͟t̷ dirt̨y GLI͟TCH ҉fuck̶e̵d ͟yo͠u̸!”_ "  
> 5455 words, 14 pages.

At first, you slept.

It was a dreamless and deep kind of sleep, a feeling of warmth mysteriously blanketing you despite what felt like a pervasive cold all around. You were floating gently in the dark, your aching body and battered psyche at ease and rest during an uninterrupted slumber. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until you woke up, _slowly,_ eyes fluttering open at a specific sharp pain jolting through your side.

 Next, you panicked.

It took you a few moments to fully gather yourself – immediately you clenched your teeth and focused on _breathing,_ the sore ache throughout your body both somehow agreeable yet _terrifying._ Curled in on yourself, it took a few long seconds until you could sit up fully, noting how you were in the anti-void, naked, and looking like hell.

And then, at last, you remembered.

 

_“that’s right, my super coolio broski. my help.”_

_“With what?”_

_“y’know, for a cool gal who’s being forced into staying here, you act like you don’t want to **leave**. like that totally uncool error man is your **friend** or something.”_

 

_“You promise to take me somewhere safe if I help you?”_

“ _deal._ ”

 

_“i-it’s my host.”_

_He wouldn’t stop growling – a primal, hungry sound that once again reminded you of your previous fear of him tearing into your throat and bleeding you dry._

_“it-it’s in heat.”_

 

_“P-please, Fresh – please…”_

 

“ _please, please, please…_ ”

 

_“you want me to fuck you, my chum buddy amigo?”_

 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, **fuck** –_

_He didn’t even say anything – just watched your face, his smug grin telling you more than words ever could._

_Something was off – but…_

 

_“that’s right,”_

_It wasn’t long until you felt him pressed against your entrance, your breath catching._

_“i want to **hear** you.”_

 

_His bones shuddered and rattled at your touch, once again the close proximity to his magic making you feel like there were pins and needles all throughout your body._

_He wouldn’t stop – he was growling, feral as he claimed you, louder than any cry you could have made for him to slow down._

_He didn’t care – he wasn’t even sane anymore._

_No longer a parasite – but a **monster**._

Immediately, you reached around and behind yourself, pulling the jacket that had fallen off of your kneeled form from the ground to cover you. It was cold in the anti-void – but you weren’t sure _why._ It had never felt this despondent – now more like a prison than a place of being. Well, except for when you’d first arrived all that time ago.

And now, here you were, shaking in the middle of the anti-void, on the floor.

Naked.

Holy _fuck_ you were pissed –

But you were scared, too.

_Terrified._

The fact that Fresh had _used_ you, just like you’d feared, and then left you back where you started? You felt betrayed, defiled, and as if you’d been _raped._

But – that wasn’t true, was it? You’d _wanted_ it, begged happily for the parasite’s touch. In that moment, it had been something you’d consented to – at least in the end. It confused you and angered you at the same time that when remembering the events of what happened made you _blush._

But – it hadn’t been _right._ He’d _lied_ to you.

You weren’t sure _what_ it classified as. You felt like you’d been nothing but a toy for Fresh to steal and play with, then leave for Error to find. And what was Error going to do, once he found you? He’s not _stupid –_ he’s the smartest person you’ve ever known, par his bouts of instability. He’d look at you – at how _naked_ and _broken_ you are, and would do… _something._

 _What,_ you’re not quite sure.

A part of you hopes that _maybe,_ he’d be jealous or angry and take it out on Fresh, and somehow understand. That he might be _vengeful,_ on your behalf.

But you _knew_ better.

He’d be _furious –_ you’d tried to leave him, after all. And for what? Only to be helplessly naïve, in thinking that it would be so _simple._

Fuck – you were so _stupid_ at times.

And now, what could you do but wait for the glitch’s inevitable return? And when he _did_ return, what would you do? What would you _say?_

What _could_ you say?

It was then, almost as if summoned by your thoughts, that a familiar static began to build against your soul and crawl along your skin. You knew what this meant - Error was returning to the anti-void from wherever he'd gone to, more than likely prepared to meet a human that had once begun to consider him their friend.

But that wasn’t the case now, was it? For all Fresh had done to you and made you feel, he’d done one thing _right_. He’d reminded you of how wrong this situation was - of how Error was your _captor;_ not your _friend._

Too lost in the shuddering feel of your body reacting to the familiar magic and its implications, you heard the shuffling sound of slipper clad feet too late, downcast gaze suddenly catching the sight of familiar black fuzz.

Oh.

_Oh._

…

You refused to move your gaze, knowing that familiar piercing gaze was eyeing your naked form, clad in that _parasite’s_ jacket - your body covered in his marks, his attention, _his claim._

Then, something dropped.

Instinctively, your eyes snapped shut, having seen little of whatever it was having fallen to the ground between the two of you.

You didn’t care what it was or what it might be - you were only aware of the shifting static, almost tangible in his presence, caressing your skin in an unconscious gesture of Error’s magic.

“h̶e͞r̢e̸.”

Confused and wary of Error’s intentions, your eyes snapped open to gaze up at the glitch. His voice had been so even - so neutral, as if there was nothing different now than normal. He even _looked_ unfazed, dressed in his normal attire, lazy gaze holding a simmering kind of anger.

“Huh…?” Did he mean whatever it’d been that he’d dropped between the two of you? No - his hand was held out as if he wanted you to take something from him, but you couldn’t quite see whatever it was in the palm of his hand.

Confused, but not unwilling, you reached up with a wary hand to find his own. Fingers scraping across warm bone, you couldn’t help but tear your gaze away from his aloof expression, down towards the showing red bones of his tibia and fibula. The sensation of your skin, albeit just your fingers, upon the familiar feel of bone reminded you all too clearly of a different skeleton's touch. It wasn't that you willed the reminder into being - or _liked_ the connection between parasite and glitch - but the reheating blush on your skin was there all the same; something you _despised._

Ignoring the sick feel of your body aching in a pleasant feeling hum, you felt around and in the palm of his hand, finding something hard and small, deft fingers taking it quickly.

Inspecting whatever it was, you didn't know quite how to feel about it.

Monster candy.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you didn’t even know what you would say as you rolled the familiar looking treat in the palm of your hand. Would it be inappropriate to _thank_ him? He was the reason you were in this mess in the first place.

Gaze falling even lower, becoming unfocused, you brought your hand to your mouth and put the small piece of candy in your mouth, atop your tongue.

Then again, he didn’t _have_ to heal you, did he?

You didn’t want to think about it. It almost seemed like Error was going to let it drop too, with the way he was acting - and you were fine with that. You knew he didn’t deserve your apology anyways, somewhere within you.

The candy was as sweet as always, the distinctly non-licorice flavor melting smoothly against your rolling tongue and hard teeth. You could feel your body reinvigorating itself, marks and bruises from Fresh’s eager touch fading to leave your skin once again unmarred and smooth.

You still felt _filthy._

“d̛id͜ ́y̵ou e͟n͟jo͞ỳ ͘it҉?͘”

What was left of the candy, you nearly _choked_ on.

“ _What?_ ”

“yo̸u he͝a̴rd m̕e͞,̛ _h_ _̷_ _um_ _̕_ _a_ _͜_ _n_ _̧_.”

He wasn't lying. You’d heard him perfectly clear.

You just didn’t want to believe he was asking _that_.

Perhaps the inflaming of your face should've been a good enough answer, but the glitch standing tall before you said nothing. You knew he was waiting on your answer - an answer you weren’t sure of.

You knew there were two right - _obvious_ \- answers, but at the same time they both meant you ill-will.

To tell the _truth - yes, I did -_ and you couldn’t help but know that he didn’t _want_ to hear that.

(or did he?)

To _lie_ \- _no, why would I? -_ and he would know you were being untruthful.

(lying to him never _did_ bode well.)

Then what could you say?

But why say _anything?_

You didn’t owe this **glitch** _anything._

He’d kidnapped you, threatened you, _tortured you -_

_Had made you **like** him..._

But…

“I’m...” You’re _what?_ Part of you dreads what you’re about to say - you have no obligation to tell him this. He has no _right_ to hear this. You spit out your next words with vehemence - despite a tiny part of you _meaning_ it. “I’m _sorry._ ”

A laugh, rolling through the anti-void like a thunderclap, seemed to tangibly run against your skin as your shivered at such an empty, bitter sound.

“yo̕u s̢ho͞u͠ld̛n̷’̕t͟ b҉ȩ ̛a͠po̧l͢o̵gi̢zing͝ to̢ ҉ _me_ _͜_ ,” He tapered the end of his proclamation with a vehement _snarl_ , your eyes coming into focus as a slipper-clad foot nudged the item he’d dropped when he’d first arrived - something you now recognized as one of his dolls. This one donned a blue-hoody, black shorts, and pink slippers; something simple in comparison to others he'd shown and shared with you. Like all of Error’s dolls, it was a Sans - one of the many in the multiverse. “yo̕u̸ ̷śho̧uld̴ ͜b̀e ap̧o̧l̵ogiz̛ìņg҉ ̵t̶o _h_ _̛_ _i_ _̕_ _m_.́”

You remembered vaguely two things Error had once told you about the dolls he made.

  1. They marked the fall of a timeline.
  2. The doll was alive - _it had a **soul**._



“i t́ol̨d y͜ou i̕ ̸was̡ ge҉tţin҉g ̀somét̨hing̕ ̢for̶ yoú,͘ ̧d͟ìdn͡'t i?” That was right - the last time he’d left, he’d left with a promise of some kind of gift - a _reward._

Was this it?

You weren’t too horrified by the sight of the trapped monster soul - and the grim reminder of Error’s genocidal tendencies. You'd grown _numb_ to that aspect of Error, despite your newfound realizations. You were more afraid of the significance of this _specific_ doll - of why he was giving it to _you_ as a _gift._

A creeping thought, an _idea,_ blossoming to life in your mind –

“it͡'̵s ͠yo͏u͢rs, y'̵kn̴o͟w̧.͟” He confirmed the haunting connection you'd made making you glance back at him with a frantic gaze.

_It’s yours._

“I know.”

This Sans - this _doll -_ contained the soul of the last monster from _your_ timeline. The last soul there at all - left to rot and suffer as the universe around them fell apart, only to be tortured in the end and then fashioned into a marionette. A little doll that was now being handed off to _you_.

Gently, and with caution, you reached out your hands to grasp the small doll. It was soft and somehow warm – tiny black button eyes with thin white thread staring at you with a chilling gaze. Could the monster within still see? Could it feel your horror, your rage, your despair?

“I hate you.”

Anger – you were so **_angry_** _._

You met his gaze, the warm cloth doll cusped gently in your hands. You hoped he felt something beneath the cool exterior he gave off – you hoped you intimidated him.

“t͠şk. ͞dơn̸’t ̶li̕e t̨ò ̵me,͞” He huffed, and then he was sitting on the ground before you – his legs were in a butterfly position as he rested his arms against them. At least he wasn’t standing over you anymore, but now you couldn’t look down to avoid his gaze so easily. “besides, you haven’t answered my question.”

You couldn’t help but watch his dark features as a familiar smile, etched on his skull like one skillfully carves a pumpkin, blossomed into fruition. You knew what he was going to ask – and that smile – _you_ _knew that smile._

It’s the same smile he wore when he tore you from your home –

It’s the same smile he wore when he left you the first time –

It’s the same smile he wore each time after, leaving you to the empty hunger of the anti-void again and _again –_

It’s the same smile he wore when you cried in relief at his return, not saying anything but still somehow conveying your desperate need for his company –

It’s the same smile he wore when he _yelled_ at you –

 _Blamed_ you _–_

 _Hurt_ you –

It was also the smile he wore when you thought he was genuine – genuinely happy, genuinely proud, genuinely enjoying himself, genuinely _loving –_

“d̛įd̀ yo̴u e̷n̸j̴o͞y̢ i͜t̶?̴”

You avoided his gaze.

“di͜d ̕yơu̴ e͘n͝j̨oy͠ ̶it ̧when̢ h͡e _to_ _̕_ _u_ _̨_ _c_ _̧_ _h_ _̛_ _e_ _̢_ _d_ _́_ y͏ou͝?”

You ran a thumb gently over and under the open jacket of the doll, pretending to marvel in it’s innate warmth.

“did҉ ̵yo҉u̢ ̧líḱe͢ ̨it wh̨en͝ ̧he ̶kissed͡ you͏,̕ _pet_ _҉_ _?_ _̕_ ”

(he hadn’t called you _that_ in a long while.)

The familiar name that only ever brought _fear_ struck a chord deep – deeper than the bones hidden beneath your flesh. You paused, noting how your fingers were beginning to shake in your gentle handling of the doll.

“i ̡bet y҉o̸ư ̛even li̢k͝èd̡ ̡it wh̴en͠ th͘a͟t̷ _dirt_ _̨_ _y **GLI**_ ** _͟_** ** _TCH_** ҉fuck̶e̵d ͟yo͠u̸!” There was a violent laugh – something that seemed to incite the magic around you into tangible chords of raw power. The spikes of energy against your skin was familiar but… _different_. The intention less malevolent and more… _precise._

“an͝sẁe͢r me̵, _hu_ _̢_ _m_ _͜_ _an._ _͝_ ” He snarled once more, attention sharpening into an intense focus. You knew it was of your own accord, but the intensity in which you were compelled to look at him was immense.

You didn’t know what answer to give him.

You didn’t know what to say.

There wasn’t anything to say.

The longer you paused, the more agitated Error seemed to become, the magic mirroring him in tandem.

“that’҉s͟ ͘w̛hát҉ I ̢fu͞ckin̴’̧ _th_ _͏_ _o_ _̛_ _ught_ _͘_.͠” His appearance was beginning to flicker, etching around the edges in shaking glitches. You knew that if he didn’t calm down soon – he’d either _break_ or _crash._

Put between the choice of him calming himself down, breaking, or crashing, you preferred him _crashing_.

At least that way he’d come back to himself in a much calmer and assembled state of mind – the other two involved… methods you weren’t comfortable with.

“I _do_ hate you.” You assured, mirroring his own narrowed gaze. You felt the anger within your very core – a place you recognized as your soul after so long of being used to having him torment it.

“i̧ t́h̨o̶u̵gh͘t i̡ ̵to̶l̵d ̴y͜o̡ù t͏o̧ s̸t͢o͡p _ly_ _̷_ _i_ _͢_ _ng_ _͘_.” He snapped, shifting slightly. You knew that despite his lax posture he was agitated – _furious._ Why _exactly_ eluded you.

When you’d first arrived in the void you’d been hell bent on either avoiding or pushing back against his anger. During the long time when you’d been _delusional –_ you’d accepted it somewhat numbly, with bouts of acceptance and anxiety. Now?

Well, ever heard of fighting fire with fire?

“I’m not ly-”

Quick – _quickly_ – **_too quick_** _–_

“ ** _s_** ** _̛_** ** _h_** ** _̵_** ** _ut_** ** _͜_** ** _it!_** ** _̴_** ”

You were struggling, hanging in the air, soul called forth and tangled in a messy binding of blue strings. Your body was splayed as if you were being crucified, the outstretched fingers of your right hand still feeling the phantom warmth of the doll you’d dropped in the commotion. The pain of sharp, barb-wired threads flaying your soul was not unfamiliar but _fresh –_

You cried out at the quick formation of the restraints, opening your eyes wide and blinking away hot tears. You wanted to see what he was doing, where he was, rather than hiding in the darkness behind your eyelids. It’d been so long since he’d tied you up like this, since he’d sought fit to punish you in this manner.

“y͡o̸ư ͠kn҉ow w͠h́a̸ţ h̸a͘p͏pens now͢,͏ ͜righ҉ţ?” Error’s voice – shattered and breaking, a light breeze in the void around you.

Yes, you knew. You would’ve answered with a scathing remark or two, but you knew if you opened your grimacing, grinding teeth to speak now all that would come out would be pained whimpers and cries.

“w͠h̵a̵t̕? ̴ća͏n’t́ ̴s͜a͟ý ̕sh̷it͟ n͘ow, ̸ca͘ņ ͡yo͞u?͝” Error’s voice was far from his low rumbling hiss from before. Softer, more mocking. You were more used to this teasing than the actual frustration and anger you’d heard from him before. It was somewhat of a relief, but you knew he wasn't done with you.

No, he'd _never_ be done with you. Of that much he'd always been clear.

“y҉’͠know҉,͞ n̨orm͢ally͘ i’d ͠l҉eave͡ ͡yo͠u ̷her͠e to̵ _r_ _͡_ _ot._ ” Standing close, he brought a hand upwards to pluck the strings encasing your soul almost reverently. The gentle motions vibrated a deep, cutting pain into your core – something that made you hang your head in a desperate attempt to stay silent. “but҉ i͝ ̢t̷hi̛n̨k i̢t́’s͡ o͟n̸ly fa̕ir͢… if i̧ ͝take fr͠o͏m̢ ̵yo҉u ̛wh͏a̡t ̶yo͘u ̷wil̢li͠ng͏l̶y ga̛ve̴ ̸to͢ tha͜t͝ _d_ _͘_ _i_ _͏_ _r_ _͞_ _t_ _͠_ _y_ _͏_ _͡_ _para_ _͢_ _sit_ _͢_ _e._ ”

Fear – ice cold and sharp, running slugged, jagged pains through your veins. He wasn’t being serious, was he? Error wouldn’t do that – no, never. Out of everything he’d ever _threatened_ to do compared to what he’d actually ever _done_ made the idea of such a thing sound ludicrous. You didn’t believe him. You _couldn’t._

“oh̶,̕ ͢b̨uţ i bet ͡you̵’d l̴i̡k҉e tha̕t́, ͝h͠u̡h?͡” The hand playing with the strings cradling your soul rose to cusp your chin, raising your gaze to meet his own. He was smiling, free hand hanging loosely in his pocket. He looked so at ease – as if touching you was no burden at all. As if this wasn’t something that he normally would never do. “li͠k͞ed it͝ if i͏ _fucked_ y҉òu?̛”

He paused, and you watched as his eyes shuddered in frames, glitching in a way that gave away his natural unease. You met his steady gaze with a pained grimace, eyes wide and panic striken, giving away far too much in terms of how much Error was frightening you. But you _were_ afraid – god, you were _terrified._

You'd… _never_ been this afraid of Error.

“a̷nd ̵ev̧en̴ if ̴yo̧u ̸ _d_ _̷_ _on’_ _͡_ _t_ …̀” His voice was lower now, subtler, the touch on your chin reaching up to run a warm, hard phalange along your cheek. It was so _strange –_ so foreign, knowing Error had never quite touched you before. He sounded so _subdued –_ so different – and you were unable to look away despite the fact he was promising to hurt you in the most intimate way possible.

“…̡i ͢çaņ _m_ _̕_ _ak_ _͟_ _e_ _̴_ yo͠u ̧like ͘i̕t́.͟”

It’s a drastic change in the way the pain on your soul suddenly morphs into hot white _pleasure –_ bursting within your being and spiraling throughout your body. The intense feeling races straight to your core, thrumming in your blood, your legs and arms shaking as you grit your teeth in what you refuse to admit is something _far_ beyond pain.

Leaning your face into his touch – not by your choice, _at. all. –_ you close your eyes tight and try to ignore the sudden _need_ racing through you. It’s nearly a hundred times more intense than anything Fresh had done to you – it’s a feeling rooted deep within you, swimming within your soul, clouding all and any thoughts.

It’s… _fuck._

 _It’s_ _so good._

“Fuck – _fuck!_ ” You can’t help it – you begin to pant, and you know that a deep part of you is nothing less than embarrassed by how he’s making you feel. It's the same part of you that’s shouting about how _wrong_ this is – about how _fucked up_ it was to enjoy what Fresh did to you – what Error was _going_ to do-

But at this moment – _you just don’t_ **_care_** _._

“h̛eh̢,͟ lo͠o͏k at’̷cha͟.” His laughter rolled deep within his bones, seeming to vibrate within the air as the static of his magic sparked against your skin. The hold on your soul kept you still, his gaze dark and focused on nothing but your flushed face and flashing soul. It was almost too much – you needed – you _needed-_

“ever̢y̛thin’̵ ̛a͝l̶r̡ìgh͟t, ͡pet҉?” Oh god – his _voice –_ you rolled your head backwards, eyes cast upwards towards the infinite white of the anti-void. Just the sound of it alone, the feel of his magic caressing your skin and tightening around your soul, the steady way his gaze seemed to roam your naked flesh –

You felt so _desired._

And suddenly it hit you, a wall of suppressed emotions pulled to the forefront of your mind. You remembered with clarity just how much you’d _wanted_ Error before this whole thing had started – how much you needed his presence in your life here in the anti-void. Just how much he _meant_ to you.

Stars, you wanted this. You wanted _him._

“h̀eh̸ ̀– s̴hh̷h͘,͟ ͢‘́ş al̵ri͘g̸ht̸.͝” You rolled your head, watching how he grinned loosely at you, completely at ease. The only thing out of place was the sweat forming along his skull, the deep cobalt blush layered over the blue strings leaking from his eyes, and the way his shorts were tented, glowing nearly the same color. He was once again looking at your soul, the sight making his fingers twitch by his side. You just wanted him to do _something_ to you already – anything. Anything to stop the heat burning within you like a furnace.

“i ́ca͟n fee̷l ju̧st ̧h҉ow̸ m̶u̷c͘h҉ ̷y͠ou w͞ant ̸m͟e͝,͏ ̡y̛’̸know.” Once again, he reached out, phalanges pausing within mere inches of your soul as he hesitated. His gaze flashed back towards your own, then once against found your shimmering soul. " i͡ wońde͜r҉...͘"

Then, without much warning, he was touching your soul – the feeling alone transcending the simple sensation of worn enamel on dense magic. You could feel _him,_ far beyond his physical presence and buzzing magic – deeper than the terse strings that held you aloft and surged unbelievable heat within you. You felt him for who he was – you could feel his _soul,_ a deep, resonating thrum that surged between the two of you.

His magic crackled in tinted shades of blue and black, sparks ripping apart into digital code just in the corners of your sight. The manic power raced between the two of you, dancing along his bones, along his arm, and straight into your _soul_. Such tangible raw power felt like a lightning bolt straight to the chest – only, it didn’t _hurt._

Far from it.

It was a powerful feeling – Error’s sockets dark and empty, his bones rattling as his form began to flicker in and out of reality. His thoughts – the voices he heard _–_ every feeling between the two of you – your _need –_

_fuck oh no fuck good so good fuck deSTROY –_

_look at the pretty flowers!_

_oh, what a darling knife._

_do you want it? do you do you do you do you do you –_

_need mine fuck good taste fuck mine hot good magic soul mine mine miNE MINE MINE MINE –_

Your own thoughts – your soul, crying out against such intangible stimulation. So much but still. _Not. Enough._ You needed more. You needed everything. You needed _him._

_Please. Please. Error – please. Please._

You were crying out, bucking your hips forward, needing _anything_ to fill the gap within you. It was far too much at this point – you were overstimulated and yet at the same time nowhere near close. All you needed was _something-_

And then _something_ was touching you, _finally –_ something slick and gel-like, buzzing and massaging against your lower folds. You threw your heard back, gasping for air as you began to rise even higher, reaching the cusp of bliss. Whatever was touching you was so obviously Error – insistent as the appendage ran itself against your slick before setting to work on your clit.

_yes, good, fuck, mine, soft, wet, mine, warm, yes, yes yes yes yes –_

You weren’t even sure whose thoughts you were hearing anymore – Error had an entire hand around your soul, clutching it as if it were his only life line in the entire world, anchoring him to reality. You only wished you could see him – but you were too busy, too high to do anything other than gasp and buck against the magical appendage that only continued to ravage you, determined to make you cum.

_good, fuck, mine, stars, close – so close, cum, cum for me – for you, for **us –**_

You crashed, hitting your peak with a scream, a sound that echoed far and distant across the anti-void. Your body fell limp, the strings on your soul disappearing only for you to be cradled by something far more intimate – tendrils of solid magic wrapped themselves around you, reminding you much of something straight out of a hentai porno. They curled around every part of you – beneath your arms, around your chest, your stomach, between your legs – everywhere.

It was such a strange sight to behold – Error standing so close, jaw cracked open wide as he panted out hot air, sharp fangs visible to the naked eye. The tendrils holding you sparked like the magic racing across his bones, seeming to have no end or start, colored dark rippling shades of red, blue, and black.

Your soul was back within you – your thoughts and need no longer shared but now your own. You couldn’t help how embarrassed you felt, crimson dancing along your cheeks. You couldn’t find the will to be angry any longer – your need was still very real, your cunt pulsing and dripping, your body shivering under its restraints. You couldn’t move – couldn’t struggle. Besides, what was the point? Error knew you liked this. And you _did_. Stars, you wanted him still, even when he wasn’t making you feel things you shouldn’t.

“heh… ̢h̴eh̶.” Error’s voice was hollow, his chest rising with the effort to breathe as he held you sternly within his power. You wondered, idly, if he could feel you against his magic like this. His eye-sockets slowly gained their color back, no longer deep wells of endless black. “i͝ ̕c͝a̵n͠ ̵s̡e̸e ̕it͘ ͟n͟ow̡, ̨w̵h̷y̛ yo̕u̴’r͟e͝ t͡hé ̧on͢e̢.͞ ͜w̛hy y͢ou̢’re͝ ̶ _m_ _̶_ _in_ _̵_ _e_.”

You aren’t given any time to try and process what he’s said, instead you feel one of the tentacles push within you without any warning. Keening, you roll your head forward, hair hanging limply before your face in a curtain. It’s thick, slick, and _warm –_ Error growls as his magic fills you completely, snapping his jaw shut in order to grind his teeth in a familiar bad habit of his.

“fuc̢k –͏ ̢h͜u͏man, y/n͝,͘ ͢star̛s͝ – ̕yòu’re s̛o t͜i͟gh̶t̵ _._ ” He laughs as the tendril within you hilts, pressing against your cervix in a way that almost borders on pain. The monster before you is hunched over, barely standing, hands fisting the material of his jacket as he tries to stay in control. His magic is harsh static against your skin, dense and thick, a sensation akin to a limb that’s fallen asleep for a long time. “i ͝c͘a̕n͡,͡ h͟eh,͟ ͘seȩ ҉n҉o͜w͘ w͡ḩy̡ that͝ ̶p̧ara͠s͢it͜e ͢dec҉ided ̛to ͘– heh –̨ ̨rid̸e o͟ut h̸is ҉h͢eat ̕–̕ ̕f̵uc͞k͜,̀ p̷e͘t ̸– _f_ _҉_ _uck!_ ”

Your inner walls clamped down around him at his words, your body betraying you by giving it’s sign that you were ready for him to move. Inwardly you weren’t sure what he meant – but the lust clouding your mind was too thick, too dense to try and reason through. You were making such breathy, loud sounds – sounds you would never hope to hear in your wildest dreams.

Seeming to understand, Error began to fuck you in earnest with his tendrils, the magic ruthless and stiff within you. It was malleable all the same, twisting and curling at every trust within you, reaching for every spot it could reach. You were crying, shaking and begging – anything for _more,_ you needed _more,_ you were so greedy, fuck, you wanted _more –_

And then another tentacle nearly the same thickness, pressing against the same hole. You froze, tensing, and it slowly sank its way in beside the other. Two tendrils of solid, hot magic squirming within your cunt, the monster responsible falling to his knees as he growled and panted, unzipping his jacket with hurried motions and then throwing it aside. You watched as best you could when he shoved his shirt up in order to touch himself, one hand clawing against the inside of his ribs while the other found the lumbar region of his spine and began to stroke in earnest.

The two tendrils within you had slowed down considerably compared to the original pace of when it was only one. It was hard to make the connection, but it wasn’t long until you noticed the pace was beginning to pick up, in time with the hand that reverently stoked along his spine. You mewled at the sight – him, touching himself as he fucked you in a squirming, static mess of magic.

You were helpless – but _fuck_ if you didn’t like it.

 “Er-” You tried to say his name – anything to grab his attention, the monster lying before you with his eyes closed in concentration. You were _so close._ You just needed – all you needed – “Err – Error -”

“ _wha_ _̶_ _t?_ _͞_ _!_ _̶_ ” His eye-sockets snapped open, jaw once again cracking open as he panted with non-existent lungful’s of air. He looked just as frustrated as you, gasping, bucking forward. The hand that had been playing with his ribs began to trail down, absolutely no hesitation as he locked gazes with you, pulling his shorts down low enough to reveal a deep blue – nearly black – cock jutting out proudly from his pelvis.

He wasted no time as he began to pump himself, keeping in rhythm with the tendrils inside of your aching cunt and the hand clutched tightly to his spine. He looked absolutely feral, fangs on display as his entire body shuddered and shook, the edges of his bones beginning to tear apart as if you were looking at him through the lenses of 3-D glasses meant for a movie.

“w̵hat͝ –҉ th̸e ͞ _f_ _͜_ _u_ _̛_ _ck_ _̛_ -̴” He began to stroke faster, the increased pace making you clamp your legs tight, the magic holding you in place refusing to budge. “do you –͢ f͞uc̀k͘in͢g – ̛w̷àn͏t͡?!”

Faster now, the hand on his spine coming up to his mouth as he bit down on his own fingers, eyes once again closing in rapture. He was so close, pre-cum dripping from his cock. His form was turning to static, magic building up into raw energy against your skin and flesh, the tendrils within you bucking hard and fast.

And then another tentacle, finding your clit and rubbing with a fervent need, making your legs jerk in response. Another tendril found your throat, wrapping tight circles around and cutting off your airway. The magic wrapping against your stomach pulled tight, oh so tense and taut against your skin –

His cries, muffled by hard enamel –

Your back arching, hips bucking –

The pained gasps that tore from you as you tried to breathe –

Magic encasing your entire mind, body, _soul –_

You come undone, quivering as you clamped down around his dissipating magic. He was whining, loud and long, removing his phalanges from his mouth in order to cry out. He was cumming, thick seed spilling out into the anti-void. As his magic dissipated so did his cock and the tendrils holding you up, your body falling into a messy heap upon the floor.

 

 

 

 

Shuffling slippers, a familiar warmth close to your chest and comforting in your hands.

Your body, sore for the second time so soon, crying out in pain as you try and open your eyes.

No, wait. Not slippers. Shoes? They’re brown – yellow stripes, a tiger print catching your eyes against a bright familiar backdrop of white.

A foreign voice, soothing you with what sounds like gibberish – a warm, skeletal hand running along your skull and through your hair.

It feels so nice – and you feel so _warm._

You shut your eyes once more, ignoring the gentle _drip drip_ of something nearby despite the fact your 100% sure you’re still in the anti-void.

You’re so _tired._

You fall back asleep, feeling strangely comforted and cared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Heh. Can anyone say 2 month hiatus? Well, not really, I just kind of... didn't know how to write this chapter. I'm so very unhappy with this chapter, but... uh... here it is. I feel like it should be longer - that you guys deserve as much.
> 
> but, on another note - HOLY FUCKING SHIT? 200+ KUDOS AND 80+ COMMENTS? LIKE, WHAT THE FUCK. GUYS. NO. THIS IS SIN. AND IT'S NOT EVEN GOOD SIN. GO... DO SOMETHING. SOMETHING. NOT. THIS.
> 
> But seriously? Thank you all for your encouraging words and interest in my half-baked ideas.
> 
> Also, I'm now going to make this story multi-chaptered, each chapter with one AU Sans/Reader sin. I think it'll be fun, to just try and do this story as I go along. Can anyone guess who that was at the end of the chapter was, anyways?
> 
> Edit; okay, scratch that. Now that i get over my fangirling, I realize having sin every chapter with every au is a little unrealistic. Just a little bit. But! As for now Error and Fresh are most definitey the current love interests, and I've definitely gotten some good requests when it comes to introducing some more AUs. What AU would you like to see reader interact with?
> 
> Thanks! <3


	3. *Bonus; Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _And like any Sans, he hates making promises._ "  
> 1755 words, 6 pages.

He’s missed his jacket.

 

Part of him wonders how much time has passed for y/n and Error, but he doesn’t really care. It doesn’t matter. It’s been perhaps a week for himself? He’s not sure. He’s gotten some things done in the meantime. Infected a whole universe. That made his grin stretch, but beyond that he’s not sure what else to feel.

 

He doesn’t.

 

With his usual flourish, he appears within the anti-void in a puff of rainbow colored smoke, a blue skateboard hooked beneath his arm. Maybe y/n would want to see him do some tricks? Then again, they never usually wanted to see him in the first place. Remembering how their last encounter went makes his grin twitch – an uneasy itch dancing across his borrowed bones. He doesn’t like how it feels – not one bit.

 

Where’s y/n?

 

The anti-void is especially empty this time – no noise, magic, or scents pervade his senses, an unsettling silence turning that uncomfortable itch into a weight that settles itself on his shoulders. There’s no one here. No y/n, no Error, nothing. Just… empty space.

 

Should he leave? Wait until he’s certain they’re here? It’s not like he has anything better to do, besides infecting more universes. That’s what it’s always been. Infecting and bugging Error. And then bugging y/n. Nothing else to do. Nothing else he _wanted_ to do.

 

Did he even _want –_

He shakes away the thought. That heavy feeling on his shoulders is beginning to weigh him down – and he refuses to make himself panic like that ever again. It took him nearly a whole day to recover from what happened the last time he saw y/n.

 

He’s never doing _that_ again.

 

Suddenly, there’s magic, invasive, consuming, _primal –_

 

A loud whirring of collective power, burning ozone, a familiar, _mighty_ roar –

 

Smile hitching even higher, Fresh stands still, listening to the orchestra of malice being played for him. He waits, the whir growing ever higher, his fingers twitching as plum-colored magic sparks against his phalanges.

 

And then, the magic releases and he’s _gone,_ tearing his body into molecules and through dimensional boundaries – into the void and back out again – until he reforms a few feet away. Close enough that he can smell his hat singeing, his skateboard having been lost in the quick movement. It’s lost, vaporized in such a concentrated use of magic.

 

He turns, grinning, ready to greet his old _friend –_

And comes face to face with a large, heaving beast, static racing across it’s cracked maw, magic dancing and building, ready for another surge of energy.

 

He just _barely_ gets away in time.

 

“ouch, broseph.” Fresh appears behind Error, his longtime playmate standing with his back towards him, radiating nothing but the pure desire to purge the multiverse of the parasite once and for all. Fresh leans back against an invisible wall, a favorite trick of his when in the anti-void. The only thing that gives away at his unease is a drop of sweat falling down the side of his skull. “someone might think you want to hurt me or somethin’, my cool pal. which is funny, because that’s totally not cool.”

 

Error doesn’t even turn, doesn’t move and inch – he’s not even _breathing._

Another blaster materializes, and another – four of them, honing in on Fresh, burning with energy and destruction. They’re massive, but Fresh expects nothing less. Prepared to move once again as they begin to reach critical mass, Fresh is suddenly rooted to the spot by familiar blue strings. They cocoon around him, hundreds of threads keeping him in place.

 

Slightly surprised, Fresh looks up to find Error standing surprisingly close, eye-sockets empty and a grin carved wide upon his skull. His figure reads nothing but code, form shaking and etching in and out of reality.

 

For a moment, Fresh feels something:

 

_Fear._

It’s nothing less than raw _fear_ that Fresh draws his strength upon, in this moment. The idea, they very notion that he was caught so off-guard, it slices through the lungs he doesn’t have and unhinges his very control over his host. For a very small moment, he has to focus on keeping that control and nothing else, battling a familiar panic and unfamiliar surge of emotions that he’s used to blaming his host for.

 

Focusing, pushing everything down, and Fresh summons his own blasters, beasts colored a comically bright neon pink and yellow. They circle in around him, facing outwards, one for each blaster under Error’s control.

 

The energy in the air is manic, crazed, _uncontrolled._

Error’s blaster’s go off a few seconds before Fresh’s, the smaller beasts charging up enough in order to meet blow for blow.

 

A large explosion, deafening and echoing across the entirety of the infinite Anti-void, a piercing white flashing and blinding both skeletons for merely a moment.

 

In the aftermath there stands Fresh, freed of Error’s strings, looking completely at ease. On the inside he’s reeling, barely refraining from just getting the hell out of dodge, feeling nothing but fear and anxiety. There’s anger, oh yes, but it’s minimal and he’s barely even begun to recognize it as such.

 

“huh.” His grin his crooked, and he reaches a hand up to swing his cap to the side. Would be a shame to get it anymore ruined than it currently is. “that was pretty close. not to mention unrad.”

 

“ **S** **́͟͞** **H** **̢̨̡̛** **U** **̸͜͝** **T** **̛̀̀͝** **.** **̴̛͝** **̵̷̛̕** **I** **͢** **T** **̡̛** **.** **̢͟** ”

 

“oh?” Fresh raises a non-existent brow, letting his grin stretch wickedly across his skull. “everythin’ alright, my friend?”

 

He’s not quite sure _why_ Error is so angry. Sure, normally he’s disgusted and pretty annoyed when it comes to Fresh, but this is different. This seems more… personal? Fresh doesn’t understand, but there’s really only one thing on his mind as of now.

 

“you still there?” He pauses, waiting for an answer. Error only continues to stand there, a few yards away, stare empty, smile wide, form stuttering. It’s… beginning to unnerve him. “because, like, y/n totally isn’t. which is _pretty_ strange, since –”

 

And then there’s another blaster, forming immediately at the mention of y/n’s name. Fresh frowns as he dodges its blast, only to lead into the path of another summoned beast. It goes on like this for a few minutes, Fresh dodging and dancing through the anti-void, ripping through reality and back again over and over. Error is relentless, teleporting himself, moving closer and closer towards Fresh.

 

Fresh does nothing but dodge, features drawn. Something is _definitely_ not right here. He’s not sure if he wants to know, but a familiar warmth in his bones is beginning to spring into life, a tender thing that reminds him of every time he’s around y/n. It’s not its usual soft glow, but rather pressing against him in a swirling mix of anxiety and fear.

 

Something’s _definitely_ wrong.

 

Dodging repeatedly, Fresh is distracted, suddenly coming within inches of Error, the glitched monster suddenly throwing a punch that sends Fresh reeling, flying backwards.

 

Error’s never _hit_ him before.

 

 He hits the ground hard enough to rattle his bones, and he can begin to feel his host begin to crumble. For now, it holds together as he stands on shaking femurs, knowing that whenever he decides to leave this body it’ll turn to dust the moment he does.

 

He feels nothing.

 

Just anger.

 

When Error punched him – when he physically brought his closed fist to Fresh’s now cracked jaw, the parasite had _smelled_ it. Smelled _them._ y/n.

 

That warmth – his fear, his anxiety – feeds into a sudden burning anger. So many emotions whirl through Fresh – a block having been formed through an indefinite time of practice crumbling to dust. He’d _thought_ this place was safe. He’d thought Error wouldn’t _hurt_ y/n like _he_ did. He’d promised.

 

And like any Sans, he _hates_ making promises.

 

“what. did. you. _do?_ ” Fresh’s form glitches for a few moments, his glasses flickering to the usual “HELP” - but instead of a frown, he snarls, before quickly returning to his façade.

 

“n҉othín͡g ̷ _you_ _̨_ ҉d͟i̧dn’t̡.” Error returns, hanging from his strings as he looks down upon Fresh.

 

Fresh stays silent, his magic actively snapping in the air, dancing across his bones, visible in plum sparks and fizzles. He’s not sure what to say, but he knows what he wants to _do._ He wants to turn Error to _dust_ – he wants to grind his remains beneath the _heel of his shoes._

 

“w̡h͢at? ͠a̵r͡e ͏y̧ou͝ angŕy?” It’s then that Error laughs, a manic, patronizing sound. It sets Fresh’s anger alight with burning rage, a feeling that he’s completely new to. He clenches his fists closed, looking downward and away from this _monster._

“fun̶n͜y̨. ͜i̛ tho͞ug͡ht͞ ̷a̕ ̕worth͟leśs͜ piec͘e̶ ͘of cód̴in̨g ̧like y҉o̵ư c͢ould̶n’͢t͞ ̶f̵e̡el ͏ _a_ _̛_ _n_ _͠_ _y_ _͡_ _thi_ _́_ _n_ _͘_ _g_ _͢_ _._ ” He can hear the sneer in Error’s voice, the taunting spark of his words. He’s trying to push Fresh over the edge – he _wants_ to make him angry, as far as Fresh understands. “it̨’͝s҉ alm̡ost̶ l̸i͡k̸e ̵yoų ̢caŗè a͞b̕o͢u̡t͏ ͟the͞m͞. ͢w͡hic̕h i̴s̀ ͟ _f_ _͜_ _un_ _̵_ _ny_ _–_ ”

 

“bécau̶se yo͝u͠ _c_ _̸_ _͞_ _a_ _͟_ _n_ _̶_ _̵_ _’_ _͞_ _t_ _̧_ _._ _͞_ _̀_ ”

 

He’s had enough.

 

Without warning, Fresh is gone and then back again, right in Error’s face. Behind glasses reading “RAGE” an inferno of violet magic is burning bright and snapping in the air. For a moment Error looks just as surprised and frightened as Fresh had felt not too long ago – and it’s a look the parasite revels in, takes pride and strength from.

 

He’s never held such burning hatred for anything. He’s never even hated _anything_ before.

 

He’s learning, very, _very_ quickly, just how much he despises this glitch.

 

And why?

 

All because the mere thought – the sheer idea that Error had done such a thing to y/n, especially when he’d made a deal – a _promise –_

**I t  m a d e  h i s  b o d y _b u r n ._**

****

Within seconds the fight turns on its head, now with Error dodging and Fresh on the advance. It starts with a bone, heavy and solid, comforting in his hands as he thrusts forward, wanting nothing more than to spear Error on it like he deserved.

 

Error gets out of the way just in time with a helpful pull backwards from his strings, landing on the ground with a narrowed glance upward towards Fresh. The parasite lands before him, raising a plum colored hand in order to summon a tidal wave of approaching bones, directly in Error’s direction.

 

Sooner or later, he’ll get what he wants.

 

He’ll find y/n, with Error’s dust on his clothes.

 

One way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man oh man guys. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hoped it acheived my goal of adding some more character development and depth into what's really happening here. I've had a lot of fun with writing this story so far, and it is really becoming aparent that a lot of people seem to like it, which makes me happy! All of your comments, questions, theories, kudos, bookmarks - all of it, it makes me extremely excited for where this story might go in the future. I am so, so thankful to see just how many of you guys appreciate my work, and I have to remind you that the only reason I write as much as I do is because of all of you - it's each and every single one of you that gives me the strength to persue my passion, to want to try and reach for my goals, no matter how far off they may be. So, thank you.
> 
> Okay, past the sappy shit;;
> 
> So, this story will be multi-chaptered. Not every chapter with sin, but I will be including some - a lot - of other AUs, at you guys' request. Whether or not reader has met them before will be discerned, considering Reader has spent some previous time with Error in the antiv-void. Bonus chapters will become a thing from now on when I feel like they're necessary, and I hope I've done well with this being the first one.
> 
> Man... some of you are just itching to try and spoil the story with your crazy, convoluted, hair-brained theories. There's quite a few good ideas out there, I suppose. (hint, i'm saying some of you guys are rightttt!)
> 
> Also, how many of you are up for a prequel pertaining to reader's time with Error and Fresh in the anti-void prior to this whole fiasco, telling of how reader's seen other AUs and has actually met some other characters? It wouldn't be all happiness, since this story is just as equally fucked up, but I think writing a prequel as a sequel would definitely be a lot of fun! <3
> 
> Well, I'll try and make the chapters for this come more frequent now, I suppose. (no more two month waits. that was hell for both you guys and me) Hope you guys enjoy - and please, tell me if there's any big mistakes! I didn't have anyone proofread this for me before posting hehe ^.^
> 
>  
> 
> [Poll concerning csch's summary!!!! ](http://www.strawpoll.me/11185213)  
> 


	4. Blank Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _You wanted Error – you wanted Fresh – you wanted them both._ "  
>  3925 words, 13 pages.

You’ve really got to stop waking up like this.

Stretching out, arms going up above you as your back arches, you let out a drawn-out yawn. Your eyesight is a little muddled, so you keep your eyes shut before turning over, fully intending to return to sleep under such warm, soft covers.

Wait –

_What?_

You’re in a _bed._

An _actual_ bed.

You jolt awake, sitting up. At least you try to – but your head throbs with complaint and you hunch over with a hand to your forehead, feeling like your mind is on _fire._ You groan softly and feel the way your voice cracks, weak with disuse. Why the fuck does you head hurt _so_ _much?_

For a few moments you just sit there – head in your hands as you try to gather your bearings. Despite the fact you feel like the victim of the world’s worst hangover right now, you feel fine. Fully rested, for the first time in, well, a long time.

What happened?

Cracking your eyes open, you take the change to get a good look around. Only, you can’t help but feel as if your heart’s stopped.

It’s your room. Your old room.

The room from your old life. From your world.

The very world Error said he _destroyed._

It hits you like a freight train – the weight upon your chest bearing down as if an elephant just decided to take a seat on top of you.

Error had – after Fresh –

You’ve never felt more exposed, more _vulnerable_ than you do in this moment.

You’re crying – you don’t know when it started, or if you’ll ever stop. Hot tears burn against your eyes and blur the impossible sight of an old bedroom you were certain you’d never see again. And yet, here you are – it’s all too real, too strangely coherent for any of this to be a dream.

You don’t understand. You haven’t cried since that time, long, _long_ ago in the void when you’d first started to _fall_ for Error. And now, well... There’s no way you _imagined_ spending what felt like an eternity under that _monster’s_ rule.

This _had_ to be fake, right? There’s no way – _no way._ This can’t be real. The phantom press of Fresh’s marks on your skin and Error’s tight magic choking you feels much more real than the mattress beneath you, despite being nothing more than that – phantoms.

You can’t help it – you bring the inside of your right wrist to your mouth and bite down as hard as you can. Hard enough you can taste blood, hard enough that the agony of your teeth piercing your own flesh cuts through you sharper than any knife.

Hard enough to tell you that yes, this is real.

But _how?_

Choking out a sob against your wrist, teeth bared and bloody, it feels as if your entire being is collapsing around you. Where are you? Did you imagine all of it? Or are you dreaming, right now?

You don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore.

It isn’t long – or perhaps it’s been centuries, who knows anymore? – until something – _someone_ is **_touching_** you. It’s almost instinct to shrink away and wail from the gentle touch, clutching your still-bleeding wrist tightly to your naked chest like a wounded animal. You _feel_ like an animal – trapped and cornered, most of all desperate.

You aren’t you anymore. Who were you in the first place, anyways?

Whoever they are, they seem to back off and that’s a relief. All you want right now is space – space and nothing else. Just room to breathe and continue to be until the fire within your mind, body, and soul no longer feels as if it’s consuming you from the inside out.

You refuse to look anywhere but at the familiar sight of your comforter, fisting the material in your uninjured hand up to cover yourself. Whoever it is you just want them to leave you _a_ _͠_ _lo_ _̸_ _n_ _̧_ _e_ _̧_ _._ You don’t need them or their fake comfort. How could you even possibly begin to know whether they were real or not, anyways?

Were _you_ real?

Choking back another sob, you’re unaffected when the bed dips beside you, too focused on how _detached_ you feel.

It’s then, however, that familiar ivory phalanges brace themselves on the bed right before you.

You stop moving – you don’t even dare to _breathe._

You reach out a hand, afraid that the moment you dare to even move or speak that everything around you will shatter, leaving you once again either in the empty white of the anti-void or the suffocating darkness of your dreams. You decide to risk it, entranced by how familiar yet different this hand is.

It’s bone, yes, but it’s covered by what looks to be brown gloves, a soft looking cloth that confuses you. All you can see is their phalanges, their entire palm, wrist, and arm covered by clothing. Whoever they are, they don’t speak or move, as if they’re just as sensitive as you are when it comes to this moment.

Eventually, your fingers slide against the worn feel of smooth, warm bone and you dare to glance up.

Whoever they are, it’s no one you’ve ever seen before.

Another skeleton, yes. A Sans? Most likely. Whatever AU he’s from, you don’t care.

All that matters is this is most definitely real, that you exist, and your wrist fucking _hurts._

“are you okay? i’m pretty sure that’s not ketchup.” You blink away another wave of tears as the situation finally dawns on you. You’re sitting in your old room, from a world that shouldn’t exist next to a monster you’ve never met before. That, and you’re pretty sure whatever you just experienced meant you definitely weren’t okay. Strangely, you just feel… numb, about the whole ordeal.

Whoever this monster is, he doesn’t scare you. There’s something about him that reminds you very clearly of Error and Fresh, but the colorful ensemble he wears paired with the innocent look on his face tells you he’s nothing you should be worried about.

“Ketch…up?” You’re a little confused, but the sting of your wrist makes you look down, the sight alone making you flinch. Right – you’d bitten yourself, hadn’t you? There’s blood all over the comforter and your body, and you can taste it in your mouth. It’s bitter and disgusting – how the hell you’d managed to bite so hard alludes you, but even now you still feel really fucked up over that whole… _episode_ you just had.

You look back towards the monster – his misshapen and colorful eyes blinking at you curiously and with a great sense of worry. It’s been _so long_ since someone’s looked at you in such a considerate manner – and it nearly takes the air out of your lungs.

He seems just as much at a loss for words as you are, the silence between the two of you nothing if not restricting and confining. It’s a little dizzying seeing a new face, especially with how… _colorful_ he is. At least, you’re pretty sure they’re a he.

Every time he blinks, his eyes change – it’s a stark difference, considering Fresh’s eyes are usually covered and as far as you know Error doesn’t blink. It’s a little disconcerting to watch, with how a different shape and color appearing every few seconds. He’s wearing a strange outfit that covers nearly all of his bones par his skull, phalanges, and the place where his ankles would be if he weren’t a skeleton.

It’s a… rather _strange_ ensemble.

“uh, hello?” He’s looking a lot more than a little concerned by now, and you’re pretty certain he’s got every right to be when you think about it.

“Where am I?” Your voice cracks halfway through, and he brightens somewhat, a smile quirking at the edge of his… lips? Somehow, he’s not like Error or Fresh in that regard – his skull isn’t carved into a permanent smile, the strange sight making you frown considerably.

“well, probably not where you think you are. definitely not where you were beforehand. wherever that was. what was that place anyways? I’ve never seen it before, and i’ve seen a lot of places. were you alone there? or was there someone else?” He pauses, the stream of questions erupting from him nearly overwhelming. “also, are you okay? i’ve never actually met a human before and i don’t think they’re supposed to be, well… you are a human, right? i-”

“Stop.” You hold up your injured hand, ignoring the way it throbs in protest. Whoever this guy is, he’s pretty excited, and you get the sense he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. “Please.” You add, taking a moment to gather yourself, not that surprised when he starts talking again with wide eye-sockets.

“uh, okay – oh! and my name’s ink, in case you didn’t know. it’s a pleasure to meet you, uh, human.”

“y/n.” You correct him, tired of not being called by your name. Human, broski, _pet_ – whatever. You’re tired of being treated like anything less than what you actually are. And you’re you, not something to be played with or tossed aside or _used_. “My name’s y/n, and no, I’m not okay. I’m bleeding, confused, and pretty fucking sure I’ve been _raped_ twice within the span of a day or something. So _no_ , I’m not fucking _okay._ ”

You’re no longer numb – you’re angry, but not in the way you should be.

Error was right. You don’t hate him despite the fact you wish you could. You should hate him, and the fact you don’t only makes you even more confused and frustrated. You were angry at him, furious even, but beyond that… you just couldn’t figure out _why._

And all because after so much time of being molded into doing so, you loved him.

You loved that abomination, that _glitch_ , and the fact he spat it back into your face and used you in one of your most vulnerable moments in such an inappropriate way hurt for all the _wrong_ reasons.

As for Fresh?

You… you cared for him. That much was true – but he couldn’t feel, could he? But everything you’ve ever known, everything you’ve ever been has never felt so untrue. Why Fresh and Error did those things to you – things that were wrong but at the same time _not_ – alluded you.

“is there… are you…hm,” Ink pauses, and the sight of so much weight burdened upon his skull makes you feel a sharp pain of guilt. You can tell he’s genuinely trying to figure out how to handle the situation – but for some reason the effort alone soothes you somewhat.

“I’m sorry for snapping.” It’s the truth – Ink seems innocent in this whole affair, and a part of you wonders if he even knows who Error or Fresh is. “But… if this isn’t my home, then where are we?”

“oh! heh, that’s a good question.” The tension seems to melt off of him, and you can tell he’s glad for the distraction. Either that, or he’s allowing the change in conversation, wanting to make you feel more comfortable – either way, you’re sure both of you are thankful. “my friend has this ability to look into dreams – not just the dreams you have when you sleep, but other kinds of dreams, too. he saw this place and helped me recreate it. we, uh, didn’t have anywhere else to put you, and having you wake up in my canvas space didn’t seem like it’d be a good idea.”

So you’re not home.

All of this – every part of it, is some strange… _illusion._

(is it sad that the idea of this whole place being _conjured from magic_ doesn’t surprise you anymore?)

“i’m sorry.” You blink at the sudden confession and resist the urge to flinch away when his hand settles upon your own. He must notice because he smiles uneasily and pulls away. You wait, gaze still stuck on your hand, but he doesn’t say anything else – although, you can grasp the basics of what he’s trying to convey.

You push down your disappointment – and some strange sense of _relief_ – and smile, despite how hard it is to do so. “It’s okay… Ink, right?” It’s then, however, that you remember one very important thing. “Oh, uh, did you find a-”

“a doll?” Ink nods, still smiling in a soothing manner. He pauses before reaching into the pockets of his shorts, the familiar blue plush cradled gently in his hand. You hold out your own palm, but he seems to hesitate, pulling away for a moment. Just for a second – a _split_ second – you feel impossibly angry – _protective –_ before he holds it back out.

“…Thanks.” You take it with your good hand, the warmth pulsing from such a small doll making your tense body relax considerably. With gentle consideration, you rub soothing circles onto the dolls front, once again curious if the monster inside could even feel anything anymore. If it was still alive.

“you didn’t… make that, did you?” Ink’s question cements the idea that he really doesn’t know what’s going on, and the fact that he doesn’t makes the air in your lungs catch. The accusation bothers you more than it should – the reassuring smile and reluctant hesitation on his skull masking what you’re sure is suspicion. But did that mean he knew what this doll _was?_

“No. Er – uh… someone else did.” You have to nearly bite your tongue to keep from saying Error’s name. It’s always been a strange power of his – or perhaps coincidence, but you’re not taking chances – to appear when his name is mentioned. Ink blinks, but sighs, as if he somehow understands.

“oh! uh, i brought food.” He brightens up considerably, once again switching the subject with a bright grin. “also, um, i got your jacket? i can also make you some other clothes, too! that is, well… if you even normally wear clothes? um, do you?” His voice comes out as a high squeak, and you frown before realizing what he’s implying.

Oh. Right.

You’re still naked, aren’t you?

Despite everything, it’s still a natural reaction when your face flushes with embarrassment, and Ink looks away as if he’s also just realized how indecent this whole situation was. You can feel the way shame heats and pricks against your back, much alike magic or static. You snatch the blanket once again and pull it tight to your body, despite the fact your arm still stings and there’s blood all over the sheets. Part of you wonders why it doesn’t hurt as much as it probably should – or why it’s already stopped bleeding so quickly. Maybe it was just a flesh wound?

“here.” And then in Ink’s hands is Fresh’s jacket – the sight alone making you stop short.

“That’s not mine.” The words spill past your lips without warning or thought, and even if it’s the truth, you still feel conflicted. Should you take it? But if so, then _why?_

Something within you – your soul, perhaps – seems to be reaching for the jacket. The thought of taking it and holding onto such a precious object makes you feel warm, despite the disgust that roots itself firmly inside your thoughts.

“then whose…?” Ink looks confused for a few moments, and just as he looks like he’s going to retract his offer for the jacket, you reach out for it anyways. You feel extremely nervous taking it – but something within you refuses to not take it. Ink’s expression twists into a frown before he hands it over – despite how much he seems to detest the idea.

You debate putting it on for a few moments before ink suddenly stands up, a wide grin etched across his skull. If anything, he looks extremely excited – if not cheerful.

“how ‘bout i make some clothes for ya, huh?” Ink bends over, and you watch as he picks up a _very_ large paintbrush from off the floor beside the bed. By very large, you mean taller than Ink himself – even taller than _you_. Somehow, it’s dripping black paint – paint that dissipates completely once it hits the ground – Magic. How he hell he lifted it with such ease confused you, since you now know from experience that skeleton monsters are _extremely_ light. That, or perhaps it’s just magic, like always.

He gestures for you to stand, face lighting up in a rainbow of colors – is that how he _blushes?_ Well, you’re turning a right shade of scarlet yourself as you stand up as requested, looking away from Ink in general. He doesn’t look away from your face, ever the gentlemen. Something you can definitely appreciate.

“anything specific you want me to do to you?”

Wait -

“ _What?_ ” You snap your gaze to his and you’re certain he’s turning fifty other colors, even brighter than before. He looks just as mortified as you feel, raising his free hand in an expression that he means no harm.

“sorry! heh, i didn’t mean it like _that._ ” He clears his throat, before both his hands grip his paintbrush as if it weighs nothing more than a feather. “what i meant to ask was if there’s anything you’d like specifically? for clothes?”

“Oh! Uh.” You laugh slightly, the sound a little awkward and forced. It makes Ink relax, however. “Um. Something comfortable but practical? Uh.”

You shrug, and Ink laughs and grins.

“alrighty, then. but you can’t complain if you don’t like it, got it? your fault for being so indecisive.”

For some reason, despite everything, his smile and laugh is _infectious._

Maybe it’s because you still feel numb, like the full weight of everything hasn’t hit you yet – but you laugh, a light, ungraceful sound that stretches your lips wide.

“If you say so.” You close your eyes, not sure exactly how this was supposed to work. Well, magic obviously, but beyond that you weren’t sure.

And with that Ink raises his paintbrush, suddenly swiping the entirety of it from the top of your head to your toes in one smooth stroke. It’s strange – you can feel actual _paint,_ wet and congealed dripping across your skin, despite at the same time it having that familiar feel you’ve associated with magic. Unlike Error or Fresh, Ink’s magic is gentle and comforting, a warmth that seeps evenly into your skin, bones, and soul.

It’s a little – uh – disgusting, paired with the feel of wet paint covering you head to toe.

Quickly, the paint seems to fall – as if it’s drying on the spot – into what feels like soft cloth. It’s so _strange –_ the smell of paint is strong and invasive, the texture of slick yet congealing magic settling into a completely different texture – you haven’t the slightest clue in what hell is happening.

As far as magic goes, this definitely takes the cake.

The whole process probably only takes a few seconds, but it still feels like lifetimes until you finally re-open your eyes.

Standing in front of you is Ink, leaning on his paintbrush looking rather smug. Beside him, a full-body mirror you’re certain wasn’t there beforehand, it’s simple yet ornate edges still forming as paint rushes to fill in the spaces. For a few moments you strain to see yourself – the reflective surface is glossy and akin to oil on water, a rainbow of colors spreading out until you can finally see what it reflects clearly.

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you’ve seen yourself in a mirror. A long time, surely. The last time was probably when Error first abducted you and you saw your own face in the dimensional rift he’d created.

You definitely look _different._

Your hair’s still the same, your body unchanged in where there are curves or lack of them, your eyes still the same color – you look just like the very same person Error kidnapped however long ago it was. Only, there’s a difference about the way you hold yourself, the look in your eyes incomprehensive.

You don’t know how to explain it – only that it makes your smile drop, all before something catches your eye.

Something that _terrifies_ you.

**_Y o u ’ r e_** ** _g l i_** ** _̡_** ** _t_** ** _͏_** ** _c_** ** _̀_** ** _h_** ** _̶_** **_͠_** ** _i_** ** _͏_** **_͞_** ** _n g_** ** _̵_** **_̴_** ** _._**

**  
**

****

****

****

You don’t do anything.

Standing perfectly still, it’s as if you aren’t even breathing.

You aren’t.

Your knees lock, your heart a humming bird in the cage that is your chest.

Your _eyes –_

That gleam, that _spark –_ is replaced by a single word. A word you know all too well.

**_ERROR._ **

It keeps flickering, etching itself into multiple frames, as if it can’t decide where or not to exist.

Another thing – you don’t understand how, but the edge of your figure is _stuttering._

It’s very minimal and small, and you’ve only just barely noticed it with as rare as it happens.

You couldn’t feel the… _glitches –_ or whatever they were. But they _were_ there. They existed. You were becoming an error _,_ a mistake. A failure of the multiverse. A bug. A piece of trash. A filthy _glitch_.

How was this possible?

What the _hell_ was going on?

“y/n! hey!” Suddenly, you recognize Ink as he’s snapping his phalanges right in your face, eyes wide and worried. You shake your head to clear your thoughts – your heart is still pounding away, your breathing shallow as your eyes dart to Ink’s. “you’re okay. you’re safe here.”

_you’re safe here._

_somewhere **safe.**_

“it’s okay, you’re fine. i promise.” He looks a little uncomfortable, but he refrains from touching you as you let yourself stumble backwards until your weak knees hit the mattress as you sit down.

“I’m sorry.”

_I’m sorry._

_“yo_ _̕_ _u s_ _̢_ _ho_ _͞_ _u_ _͠_ _ld_ _̛_ _n_ _̷_ _’_ _̕_ _t_ _͟_ _b_ _҉_ _e_ _̧_ _̛_ _a_ _͠_ _po_ _̧_ _l_ _͢_ _o_ _̵_ _gi_ _̢_ _zing_ _͝_ _to_ _̢_ _҉_ ** _me_** ** _͜_** ** _,_** _”_

You reach beside you and find the doll, clutching it tightly to your chest. Its familiar warmth soothes you as Ink continues to try and talk you down from whatever the hell was happening. You felt completely out of control – terrified and tired. Worst of all? You wanted Error – you wanted Fresh – you wanted them _both._

You’ve never hated these four walls more than you do now.

It’s not rational, you _know_ that, but you can’t help it. How can you? You’re _broken._

“you’re _not_ broken.” Ink’s crouching in front of you now, taking careful consideration as he slowly sets his hands on your knees. You must’ve spoken aloud, or somehow Ink can read minds. Which, funnily enough, you doubt. “you’re not. and you did nothing wrong. nothing.” He pauses, thinking, before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. “i’ve got an idea, okay? are you willing to try something for me?”

You don’t know what to say - then again, It doesn’t matter what you say – it doesn’t matter what _you_ want.

What _do_ you want?

~~Error.~~

~~Fresh.~~

_You don’t know._

Maybe you should be crying right now, but you just can’t. You’re too busy clutching the ghost of your destroyed world tightly to your chest.

“Okay.”

“okay, that’s good.” He takes a moment to breathe in, and you mimic him, allowing yourself the deep, steady feeling. Ink’s phalanges on your skin gentle and warm in a way that you try desperately to block out. “good. you’re doing good, promise.”

You are _not_ “doing good”.

“now, i’m gonna take you to some friends of mine, and they’re gonna take care of you while i try and figure some things out. i just need one thing from you, okay?”

You feel so _helpless._

You nod, mute and empty.

“i just need you to tell me who did this to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't like how this chapter came out. At all. I mean, I took a little over a week this time to actually plan the next 9 chapters or so, most of those being bonus chapters. Speaking of bonus chapters, they will now be placed into a companion fic titled, "Captive souls & Candid Hostility." I've yet to make it, seeing as how I don't have any bonus chapters to put in it - for now chapter 3, rage will be staying in this fic. Those bonus chapters include already seen content from new POVs, interactions between different characters when Reader isn't there - like the last chapter - and chapters detailing a bit of a prologue from reader's time in the anti-void with just fresh and error.
> 
> As for the poll from last chapter? I'll be closing it now, and shall change the summary of this story to an actual proper summary soon.
> 
> Also I don't know if you guys know but SOMEONE *[COUGH COUGH](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/)* HAS BEEN DRAWING ME [FANART](http://ittybittyboneybae.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart)?
> 
> **INTRODUCING;;[AN ASK BLOG!!!](http://cobaltstrings-carmineheelys.tumblr.com/)** Where you can  ask Error, Fresh, Ink, and other upcoming characters from this story questions! You can ask whatever questions you like, actually, but you can't ask Reader any questions, considering they're you. I'd like to thank [Lusewig](http://charmingcreep.tumblr.com/), the author of [Cage of Bones](archiveofourown.org/works/6809974) for the idea and permission to use said idea. <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Another poll concerning chapter lengths](http://www.strawpoll.me/11256522)


	5. Author's Note & Update

Hey guys! I know it's been near and  _quite literally_ forever since this work has seen the light of day, left in the dark corners of those who have tucked it away to be treasured - so for those of you new, investigating this suddenly updated yet seemingly popular work, and those of you shamelessly old, i bring to you...

A REWRITE!

At first I was thinking of making a prologue, something taking on a simplistic, bit of a sparse pace, interactions of reader's time with error up to this point. After all, there's gotta be a story there, right? How did they meet Fresh? What are they to Error? All sorts of interesting exposition we've gravely been lacking in this fic! But after working on it some, I think it might become it's own fic all together, a rewrite of this one, to pay homage to the idea.

Besides, who knows where it may go! But for now, here's the link, and i'll see you there!

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743478">CAPTIVE SOULS & CANDID HOSTILITY</a>.

**Author's Note:**

> [Ask Ink, Error, & Fresh some questions](http://cobaltstrings-carmineheelys.com/)!  
> [My Tumblr](http://scripttura.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Tell me what you think!
> 
> Fanart?????? You guys are so talented like seriously im crying no one's ever made me fanart before and i can't draw for shit so??? <3  
> [Chapter 3 [FIGHT]](http://ittybittyboneybae.tumblr.com/post/150269156560/letsallbecalmchaps-so-this-is-my-attempt-at) by [Letsallbecalmchaps](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/)  
> [More Random Fanart](http://ittybittyboneybae.tumblr.com/post/150324148060/letsallbecalmchaps-so-ittybittyboneybae-seemed) by [Letsallbecalmchaps](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/)  
> [Part 3 Fanart](http://ittybittyboneybae.tumblr.com/post/150372872415/letsallbecalmchaps-so-part-3-of-fanart-for) by [Letsallbecalmchaps](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/)  
> [Part 4 Fanart](http://ittybittyboneybae.tumblr.com/post/150428965700/letsallbecalmchaps-part-4-of-my-fanart-of) by [Letsallbecalmchaps](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/)  
> [Part 5 Fanart](http://ittybittyboneybae.tumblr.com/post/150511115470/letsallbecalmchaps-so-this-is-part-5-of-fanart) by [Letsallbecalmchaps](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/)  
> [Ask Blog Fanart - Not Canon](http://cobaltstrings-carmineheelys.tumblr.com/post/151461392416/ittybittyboneybae-letsallbecalmchaps) by [Letsallbecalmchaps](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/)  
> [A Quick Sketch](http://ittybittyboneybae.tumblr.com/post/151136110555/fandomintentions-this-was-a-really-quick) by [Fandomintentions](http://fandomintentions.tumblr.com)  
> [Ask Blog Fanart 2- Not Canon](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/post/151468773941/the-denial-is-strong-in-this-one) by [Letsallbecalmchaps](http://letsallbecalmchaps.tumblr.com/)


End file.
